


Love, Racetrack

by sarsroses



Category: Love Simon (2018), Newsies (1992), Newsies - All Media Types, Newsies!: the Musical - Fierstein/Menken, Simon vs. the Homo Sapiens Agenda - Becky Albertalli
Genre: Deaf Character, Deaf!Albert, Homophobia, Mentions of past abuse, Trans Character, Trans Male Character, Transphobia, You don't need to know SimomVS to understand this to any degree, both extreme fluff and fun and extreme angst, but mainly dealing with the effects of that abuse, its just inspired by I guess, trans!race
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-09
Updated: 2018-02-18
Packaged: 2019-03-02 16:50:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 13
Words: 22,839
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13322391
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarsroses/pseuds/sarsroses
Summary: Antonio Higgins is out of his depth this time, and still refuses to involve his friends. He can deal with this on his own - but there's no harm in seeking comfort in an online pen-pal, its not like they'll ever run into each other.





	1. net neutrality or the bees

When the last round finished and Morris Delancey revealed his straight flush, Antonio Higgins knew he was screwed. Totally, completely and royally screwed. He'd gone too far this time. He hadn't even intended to play against the Delancey's; they'd joined a game he'd planned at the racetracks and consequently turned said game on its head. He ran a hand through his curls and tried to ignore the brother’s smirks. Wracking his brain he tried to pick flaws in their gameplay. He knew they were cheating, they must have been, but lame accusations would quickly fall flat without hard evidence.

Oscar stood, "So where's the money?" He loomed over Antonio as the latter blinked wearily.

"I'll get it, just give me some time," he replied.

Morris snorted, "a month, that's all youse got, Higgins."

Antonio's eyes followed the backs of Oscar and Morris Delancey before he stood himself. Adjusting his cap, he glanced at his watch. Nineteen hundred hours gave him just enough time to get back to his apartment, eat the frozen ravioli in the freezer and check his messages before going through that dreaded chapter on particle relativity.

Normally Antonio would be fidgety, craving a smoke or something to chew. His hands wouldn’t be able to remain still for more than a minute because of the anxiety his last gamble had caused. He had never been very responsible with money, and this situation wasn’t new to him. But the last few times weren’t the Delancey’s, and he tried to ignore just how big of a mistake this might have really been.

This time, however irresponsibly, the gamble wasn’t the most important thing on his mind at the time. He would like to think that it may have been this very thing that had distracted him enough to lose such an important game. He would have taken a very slow walk back to his apartment if he didn't know for certain there was an especially long and aggressive message about the legalities of Net Neutrality waiting to be read. It wasn't that Antonio was overly fascinated by the Net Neutrality argument, he cared about it, sure, but not enough to normally read what he expected to be a 10,000 word essay on it. His excitement was sparked in the last few words of the message.

_Regards,_

_Spot_

Or occasionally, 'up yours :), Spot'. Regardless, this 'Spot' had inspired new energy in his step as he all but slammed his front door shut and skidded to his laptop to open his emails.

 

_**FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 12 at 11:50 am** _

_**SUBJECT: Re: net neutrality or the bees** _

_Racetrack,_

_Your arguments are ignorant of how ISP’s even work. Google and Youtube already have ‘fast lanes’ to provide sufficient speed. When 40,000 others are also Googling ‘what ice cream flavour am i’, you need a direct connection (peering network, search it up) to function efficiently. It’s not a bad thing, other websites don’t need a direct connection._

_The problem is when you give ISP’s the ability to independently control the market for fast speeds. That's when you start getting disrupted free speech that you talk about._

_You’re also too soft in regards to the effects of this debate. The loss of net neutrality will affect these minorities, and that is important, but it will also bring about a whole new mode for the government to filter our information. It’s not about ‘equality’, its about control. It’s about the government being able to censor and expose us to political propaganda that will definitely, in time, sway our views to allow another autocratic dickhead to compromise our shitty excuse for a democracy. Then, we really do have a problem._

_Get your priorities straight,_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 12 at 10:17 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: your local ice cream enthusiast_ **

_Heya Spot,_

_How did you know? I googled that yesterday, I’m bubble gum ice cream. I bet you’re caramel . . or vanilla :P_

_Okay, so I got the technicalities wrong. Technology isn’t my area of expertise, but my arguments still stand. I think at this point we can conclude that we agree. Besides, this great government conspiracy is only possible through limitations in free speech in minority groups and restriction of access determined by wealth._

_You know the kinda guys that will do anything to get one up on you? Do you get tangled in that sorta shit or is it just me? I know you wont reply to personal questions so consider it rhetorical._

_But I’ve had a long day, and you brought up ice cream which is coincidentally a passion of mine, so indulge me, what’s your favourite ice cream flavour?_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 13 at 9:00 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: your local ice cream enthusiast_ **

_You’re talking to a guy who grew up on Brooklyn turf. If you mean the dangerous type then, yeah, way too many. Fuck them over yourself and you wont have a problem._

_Why aren’t I surprised you like ice cream. Idk, I don’t have a preference, I get what’s there._

_Spot_

 

Antonio smiled to himself as he finished reading the short message. This mysterious ‘Spot’ had made it clear that he wouldn’t divulge in personal details, and yet here was the first message he had received all month that held no political debates or opinions. It wasn’t much, hell, his email indicated he had a connection to Brooklyn in some respect, but it was still something.

The two had agreed when this exchange had started, that it would be only debates and ideas. Spot, it seemed, didn’t care to reveal himself as Race did. Something about keeping a low profile and not getting too involved with people. Antonio had divulged in ranting about his personal life to Spot on several occasions, but to those, Spot had never replied.

The emails had started when Antonio published a particularly controversial opinion piece on Tumblr. A recent movie that had just received brilliant reviews and awards, Antonio was thrilled with the appraisal for what he called ‘a piece of art’. Spot disagreed. When their conversation grew too heated, they began emailing, and one topic quickly evolved into another.

Antonio thought about Spot all throughout that morning. Even into the afternoon as he attended a carnival with his best friend Elmer. His extended group of friends caused commotion in the background of his thoughts. Jack, Crutchie, Davey, Romeo and Specs bickered over which rides to go on first. They were particularly torn between the roller coasters and the dodgem cars. Meanwhile Mush and Blink had already leaped on the ferris wheel without second thought.

_Grew up on Brooklyn turf_

It was a weird sort of confirmation. Spot, The Spot, _his_ Spot, walked through perhaps this very park. Maybe he was still here, maybe he’s passed Spot several times and never actually realised. Antonio foolishly watched people pass him analysing their stature, expression, anything that might give away that they were the short tempered ball of anger he had accidentally grown so attached to.

A tall man with a beard and tattoos walked past with two young girls. A bald man with black leather clothing buying a fraudulent watch. A short spit fire in a red shirt arguing with the roller coster height attendant. Antonio smirked at this.

“Tony, we’re heading to the twister first,” Elmer prodded his shoulder to get his attention, then gazed down at the massive stick of cotton candy in Antonio’s hand. “You need some help with that?”

Antonio smiled at his friend, “yeah, yeah, grab some and get on the ride - I’m gonna browse the carnival games first.” Elmer did so, and promptly ran off to join their friends.

Antonio slid his earbuds in, set his playlist to shuffle and took huge bites of cotton candy that was falling off the stick. He had asked for the tender to fit as much cotton candy as possible onto it, and had gained a wad thrice the size of his own head.

The cotton candy didn’t last long, as the great pink cloud obscured Antonio’s vision and he smashed into something that fell back as he did. Scrambling up, Antonio realised he’d knocked someone over and begun apologising profusely. Holding out a hand to the other, he helped them up and was able to gather his thoughts.

A tall ginger haired boy peered at him with wide green eyes. His arms exposed to the cold air through a sleeveless, stained shirt. A rag was slung over his shoulder and his hair was held back by a black bandana.

“Sorry, sorry, I wasn’t looking where I was going,” he said calmer this time, the other boy nodded after a pause.

“Did you want some cotton candy?” He asked, as he bent down to scavenge what he could. He looked up, confused at first by the lack of response. The red head pointed at his ear and gave a soft smile, then motioned for Antonio to repeat.

After giving the boy half of his remaining fairy floss, Antonio turned back to the boy. “What’s your name?” He asked, and the boy was about to reply, pulling out a pen from his pocket when a short man in a red shirt (the very same) tapped his shoulder.

“Al, we’ve got to get back in five - oh, you got cotton candy?” He asked, signing the first half of his sentence before trailing off. Momentarily distracted by taking a piece from his friend and watching people scream on the drop tower. Meanwhile, the ginger took Antonio’s arm and scribbled his name and a mobile number. Before Antonio had finished reading, Albert was already walking back out of the fair with his friend.

 

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 14 at 7:01 pm** _

_**SUBJECT: Re: your local ice cream enthusiast** _

_Spotty,_

_I am personally offended by your lack of ice cream preference. I’ll have you know I spend half my life at an ice cream shop. The other half is spent pretending I know anything about biology and other sciencey things._

_I wish I could meet you. That’s kinda selfish, since you’ve made it clear you don’t want to._

_I think we’ve grown pretty close over the months, even if you wont admit to it. I know you take no shit from others, have very strong opinions and are extremely stubborn. But you also care about people and their rights, you wrote three times more about disability rights than any other topic, even used the first person in that debate. Same with lgbt discrimination. You’re softer when you write about homelessness and aggressively defend Brooklyn. You don’t have to reveal who you are, but I just want to know why?_

_Yours,_

_Race_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> That huge cotton candy thing actually happened, except I'm almost certain it was as big as my friends torso. Should I be worried?
> 
> Let me know if you liked it!


	2. this is hardly moving on,

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Spot has emotions and attempts to sort them out. Elmer's not helping.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tw: mentions of suicide threats and implied abuse

_**FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 16 at 8:33 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: your local ice cream enthusiast_ **

_Racetrack,_

_First of all, call me ‘Spotty’ again and no matter how much ice cream you shove in your mouth, you’ll only ever taste your own blood._

_Secondly, your emotional plea for my identity is pathetic. This was discussed three weeks ago and I don’t want to discuss it again._

_Spot_

 

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 16 at 8:57 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Moving on,_ **

_Are you ever curious about me?_

_Yours,_

_Racetrack_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 18 at 7:55 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: this is hardly moving on,_ **

_Of course_

 

Sean turned off his phone, heaved a heavy sigh and leaned back in his chair. He glared at his empty coffee cup and groaned. He was too tired to be thinking about his law studies, but more importantly too tired to be sending emails to Race.

Shooting a glance at his foster brother, who idly scrolled through his phone on the other side of the library table, he tried to be merciful. “I’m going to be late, Jack, you may as well just go.”

“Tough case?” Jack asked, glancing at the binder of notes splayed out before Sean.

“Boring case,” he replied. Jack raised an eyebrow. “Intoxication and charges of exceptional cases. Most of it’s basic but fuck is it annoying.”

“So did the judges get your sentences right?”

“Fuck off,” Spot smirked despite himself. “This guy didn’t do anything abnormal, I don’t know why he’s in here,” he gestured at the page in question. A series of handouts, examples and questions. “Impulsive and obvious lying, so, manipulative behaviour. An unstable view of others, reckless behaviour, memory loss, its nothing too strange under the influence, right?” Jack shook his head in agreement.

“But then … okay he started growling at the judge, and apparently he only had two beers in the duration of an hour. He only _just_ failed the test.”

“Sounds like a mental illness to me, bpd episode maybe, and some other pretty serious developmental disorders regarding the reptilian complex, psychosis . . .” came an unfamiliar voice from behind him, “He wasn’t intoxicated, well he might have been, but he should have been taken to hospital for psychiatric care. Did he present an immediate threat to others?”

Spot spun around to face the boy behind him. “Sorry, I just overheard. I’m a nurse so this is kinda my thing. Well, nurse in training.” The boy continued. Spot raised an eyebrow, a reaction that ran in this new family of his it seemed. “Elmer,” he said.

“Sean. He was pretty open about the intent to kill himself, but the psychiatrists at the hospital said the threat wasn’t serious and he was released immediately.”

Elmer nodded thoughtfully, “And what was he charged for?”

“Drink driving.”

“Psychiatrists are a bit shy around diagnosing disorders like this, but it would have helped in his defence. Plus, his family should have at least been briefed.” Elmer explained. “Was there a repeated offence?”

Sean’s eyes were wide at this point and Elmer had his full attention, something that was difficult to do at the best of times. Before Sean could reply, Jack stood, interrupting the two. “I’ll tell Medda to leave some dinner out for you,” he addressed Sean. “You two love birds enjoy nerding out about hospitalisation laws, I’m starved.”

Sean ignored Jack, but this pause in their conversation allowed him to take a step back. Elmer stood before him with big brown eyes and dark hair which he swept to the side. He wore a torn jumper and jeans, and had a really pretty smile. Sean stopped himself there, visibly twitching to rid himself of these thoughts.

“So, uh, what’re you doing at the university if you’re already nursing?” Sean asked. Small talk was not his area of expertise.

Elmer raised a brown paper bag in his hands, “My coworker forgets to eat, so I have to bring him food sometimes.” He seemed to remember something and opened his messenger bag. He pulled out a second bag as he continued. “Speaking of which, seems you haven’t eaten either.”

Sean hesitantly took the muffin that was handed to him and cleared his throat, snapping himself out of his own surprise. “A nurse that doesn’t eat, you’d think you’d be hungry as anything after such a busy work day.”

Elmer nervously rubbed the back of his neck, “Yeah, well, I work at an ice cream shop as well as the hospital. Part time, both of them. But yeah my coworker has been overworking himself recently for some reason.”

Sean’s breath hitched in his throat. No, no, he could be Racetrack, it was just a coincidence. Was it? Part time, half his time with ice cream, half his time with science, it fit. Too well. Oh god. Not now, not today, why today, just as he sent that email. It was like he had willed this to happen.

“Speaking of ice cream, the managers don’t work Fridays so my friends generally come ‘round and get a free batch. I’m working Friday after next. You’re welcome to join us if you want to? I’ll make you the house special.”

Sean took three times the time it normally would to process this information before he managed to stumble out a, “Yeah, sure, sounds great.” Even if Elmer wasn’t Racetrack, there was a decent chance that Racetrack would be there. His pulse was a rhythm in his ears, and he hated it. If he didn’t want to know Race, why was he going? He should just ignore this mysterious boy and move on. Its what he had promised himself, after all.

“Alright, I’ll text you the details.” Elmer took Sean’s pen, which rested loosely in his hand and leaned over his shoulder to scribble a number on his notes, followed by a smiley face. This did nothing good for Sean’s heat rate.

“I’ll go drop this off,” Elmer continued, raising the brown paper bag, “and then we can discuss involuntary hospitalisation.” Sean nodded and was finally given room to breathe.

Instead of writing all this new information down in his notes, Sean went into panic mode. His hands got clammy and his movements became stiff and sharp. His senses were alert and the little noise there was in the library grew intense and unsettling. He took a breath. He was used to this, he just needed to breathe. Slowly he grew less agitated, and he allowed himself to rationalise his thoughts.

He was getting too close to Racetrack. Too close for comfort. The two words he had written just half an hour ago were almost like a confession.

_Of course._

Of course he wanted to know more about Racetrack, which is why he should cut him off completely. Stop emailing that passionate, witty, fire cracker boy with a childish edge and curious mind. These thoughts scared him, they were too fond.

And now he was so close to finding out who he was, to meeting him in person. In his mind, Racetrack was an anonymous friend. Someone who didn’t exist in reality who only existed to satisfy a loneliness he didn’t want to acknowledge. It was healing him without him realising, slowly, getting closer to another person after years of maintaining a hard defence. The wall was crumbling and he wasn’t prepared for it. He urgently wanted to build it back up.

Don’t react — don’t show weakness. Don’t form attachments — they will only get hurt. He only learnt this through experience.

A small voice at the back of his mind spoke up. Maybe he didn’t need to be scared anymore. He was involved in some dangerous crowds in the past, he’d lived in a toxic environment, he’d been conditioned to react this way. Maybe he didn’t need to anymore.

He thought about his brother Jack. His relationships with Katherine, Davey and Crutchie. His openness about his feelings with them (compared to himself, at the very least). His late night rants about Crutchie being as golden as the sun, or how he loses himself in Davey’s words confused Sean to no end. How carefree his brother was with his feelings, chattering about them to anyone who would listen. Sean was still healing, and Medda, his foster mother allowed him the space to do that. Maybe this whole situation wasn’t as impossible as he thought.

Sean swallowed thickly, and glanced at his phone which hadn’t moved since he unceremoniously dumped it after sending that email. Okay, he wouldn’t stop emailing Racetrack. He allowed himself to understand that revealing personal details wouldn’t happen, at least for a long time yet. But he would continue, and if he felt up to it, go to this strange ice-cream fest. This was a new life, here at the garage with Albert and at university. He could breathe. It was okay.

But telling yourself to do something and actually doing them are completely different things.

“Did your phone insult you, or?” Elmer asked from behind him, and Sean realised he’d been glaring at it. He shifted in his seat and looked back to his law work.

Elmer took the seat beside him and smiled. “So, what do you need to know about electroconvulsive therapy?” He pointed at the respective sheet and Sean began reading it. Elmer snacked on a muffin of his own as he listened to Sean.

The two boys spent hours discussing everything from alcoholism to mental health. It grew dark outside and as Elmer began to get sleepy, Sean took to quietly writing notes from his textbook. He cursed himself for not offering Elmer a lift home sooner as he watched the boy sleep peacefully. Sean tried to wake him up, hopefully to get him up and home. As he did, a tall boy, carrying more books than he could count sauntered down the stairs, spotted them, and ran over.

He shook Elmer’s shoulder, and gathered his things. “El, what’re you doing here so late, Christ.” He glanced at Sean. “I’ll get him home don’t worry, he lives nearby my place.”

Sean was skeptical, but let him go when Elmer hummed in agreement.

“See ya, Sean,” Elmer waved as he left.

“See you later, Elmer.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I only realised after writing up 5 chapters of this that New York probably doesn't have ice cream shops everywhere like Australia does, lets just ignore that major detail.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed it with comments and kudos!
> 
> Who else wants one of Elmer's muffins?


	3. me, myself and i

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Looking after Race when he can't do it himself is what friends do.

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 18 at 11:57 pm** _

_**SUBJECT: Re: this is hardly moving on,** _

_Hey Spot,_

_Message received. No nicknames. I am curious about the name ‘Spot’ though, I bet it’s one of your pets names. Maybe you have freckles? If it’s some funny story from your childhood I’m very upset about being left in the dark. I’ll shut up now._

_I’m not sure if it’s overstepping this ‘no details’ arrangement, but feel free to let me know just what about me piques your curiosity ;)_

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 20 at 7:14 am** _

_**SUBJECT: the bees are more important** _

_Hi Spot,_

_You didn’t reply to my last email so I guess I came on a bit strong. You told me not to, I know, sorry. I don’t want these emails to stop so I guess I’ll try go back to our old stuff._

_What’s your opinion on toxic masculinity? I had an argument with a guy the other day who thought it was wrong for guys to hug, which is based in deep-rooted homophobia like it always is. Any display of care for someone that isn’t, in societies twisted terms ‘under their protection’ is some sort of death sentence. I guess you would say they should get over themselves? Ideally, I guess I agree, but the ideal isn’t always the case._

_What do you think?_

_Race_

 

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 22 at 2:46 am** _

_**SUBJECT: Me, Myself and I** _

_Spot,_

_So my friend and I found this old case under the floorboards in my apartment the other day, and it had one of those really big key holes. You know the ones, for those big ass fancy metal keys. I was wondering whether my finger could fit in it to help force the trunk open (I was almost certain it could) but it got stuck. We managed to yank it out after about half an hour and an entire can of cooking oil later._

_To our surprise, it was already unlocked, just needed that extra bit of oil to loosen its hinges. But inside we found a bunch of old food cans!_

_Needless to say I now have food poisoning and a really sore finger._

_Yours always,_

_Race_

 

_**FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

_**TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**DATE: March 23 at 4:18 am** _

_**SUBJECT: sorry** _

_Spot,_

_I was a jerk, I get it. If there’s anything I can do to get our old routine back, just tell me._

_I don’t think I realised it till it was gone, but these emails really did help. I’m in a bit of trouble at the moment, I messed up. A lot. But reading them always helped. I could just get riled up over a stupid movie to distract myself. Sit and think about how to reply to your emails, sit and think about you._

_Maybe that’s putting too much pressure on you. I guess I can’t stuff up much more than I have, so there’s nothing to loose, right? It’s not like I’ll ever meet you._

_Just reply,_

_Please?_

_Race_

 

When Antonio woke at 10:48 am on March 23, he jumped up immediately to put on his glasses and check his phone for emails. As expected, there were none of importance. He threw his phone down on the bed and rolled over with a sigh. He jumped up again at the sound of his phone’s vibration, and had to wait for his body to adjust to the upright position as his head spun.

He opened the text message on his home screen, their contact name simply being a string of flexed bicep emojis followed the name ‘Al’.

_**Al at 10:57 am** _

_Got a day off today, thought we could hang out?_

Antonio smiled, at least some things were going his way.

**_Tony at 11:00 am_ **

_Niice, what’re ya thinkin?_

As he waited for the next message to come through, he shuffled to the bathroom to wake himself up. He leant over the sink and blinked a few times at his reflection. Okay, so maybe he had been working constant late nights for the past two weeks. Maybe his studies were consuming every waking hour and he'd been living off coffee and sugar for an unhealthy length of time. Maaayyybe stress over these emails and subsequently this disastrous bet had caught up with him and he hadn't slept the past three nights.

He looked like a mess.

Disregarding the disastrous bed head and ruffled clothing, he had massive bags under his eyes and his skin was paler than what most would call healthy. His already irritated eyes twitched under the strain of his strong glasses. He barely had the energy to drag himself onto the tiled bathroom floor from his bedroom. Groaning, he splashed his face with water with the vain hope that it would have some effect.

_**Al at 11:10 am** _

_There's a new diner nearby that has some p interesting food. Or the arcade?_

Antonio sighed. Maybe eating something would give him enough energy, he concluded. But stumbling to the kitchen counter proved that it’d take a bit more than a few eggs to function properly again.

**_Tony at 11:15 am_ **

_Actually I'm a bit run down atm, do you mind if we watch a movie here or something?_

_**Al at 11:17 am** _

_Sure_

Antonio slumped into his couch after messaging Albert his address, and must have fallen asleep soon after as he woke to a heavy knock on the door. Sitting up, Antonio realised his phone was vibrating insistently.

**_Al at 12:02 pm_ **

_I’m here_

**_Al at 12:05 pm_ **

_Hey_

**_Al at 12:06 pm_ **

_Tony_

**_Al at 12:10 pm_ **

_I don’t know how much of a racket im making but I hope its a lot_

**_Al at 12:13 pm_ **

_Ok so you either went out or are asleep_

**_Al at 12:15 pm_ **

_I brought food, guess I’m just gonna have to eat it all myself_

Antonio jumped up too quickly for his body to fully catch up, having just emerged from a deep sleep, and almost fell over in the process. He dragged his feet towards the door and opened it as another knock began.

Albert was sat with his back against the door frame, one hand attempting to handle a piece of extremely stringy cheesy pizza while the other had been idly tapping on the wood of the door. He spun around to face Antonio. The beginnings of a smirk formed on his face as he presumably prepared to make a joke about his friends sleeping habits. When Antonio’s condition became apparent, his face dropped and his eyebrows furrowed.

“I uh, didn’t get much sleep last night,” Antonio explained. “Or the night before.”

Albert raised an eyebrow.

“Studying?”

His friend wasn’t convinced. Shrugging, he handed Antonio the box of pizza and quickly typed a message on his phone, ‘I figure you haven’t eaten anything yet either’

Antonio gave a quick, guilty smile. “No, I didn’t. Thanks.” As it turned out, Albert had saved him over half of the pizza and Antonio felt himself relaxing a little. The stress of everything began slowly fading away through the company of his new friend.

Moving to the kitchen, Antonio distributed half of the pizza onto a plate and passed it over to Albert.

“Have a look through my movie collection, or Netflix, there should be something decent somewhere.”

By the time Antonio had finished preparing suitable movie snacks, Albert had decided upon an old movie that Antonio had forgotten he owned. An old sci-fi movie he’d bought at a yard sale. After getting the movie up and spending ten minutes switching the language from Italian and getting frustrated over subtitles not appearing, they finally settled down.

Half an hour in and Tony was dozing off again. Albert let him sleep despite Antonio’s protests, insisting on staying awake for the rest of the film. An hour in and Albert grew bored of the plot. Taking to pulling out his phone to distract himself from Antonio’s head, which began lolling slightly too far his way. It took until the end of the movie for him to successfully fight off the light blush that had risen on his cheeks.

When Antonio woke, they took to chatting, and spent hours talking about work and study. Antonio working at the ice cream shop, Albert at a mechanics workshop. Tony currently studying a bachelor of science, Albert having had studied engineering but grown tired of it quickly, instead taking to using his hands. Something, Albert wrote, he had always loved. Gradually, Antonio was smiling and laughing with Albert, and all his stress was gone, if just for a moment. A dramatic turn around from that morning.

Antonio read the next paragraph of text, ‘haven’t had much time to breath either, work’s been crazy this last week. Barely had a chance to think, so chilling here really helped, thanks.’ Maybe that was why Spot hadn’t been replying. His last message hadn’t been hostile, only hesitant. Short, reluctant. Along with the will not to divulge any more information, it would be reasonable. If Albert was Spot, he’d be forgiven in a second. If Albert was Spot.

If Albert was Spot.

Antonio’s brain spiralled.

_You take no shit from others, have very strong opinions and are extremely stubborn._

Albert’s witty remarks and snarky comments. His strength of character and his stubbornness - waiting outside his door until he woke up to let him in.

_But you also care about people._

Knowing Antonio might not have eaten and buying lunch for him.

_You wrote three times more about disabled rights than any other topic, even used the first person in that debate. Same with lgbt discrimination. You’re softer when you write about homelessness and aggressively defend Brooklyn._

Disabled rights, Antonio swore he saw Albert watching him sleep, his workshop was in Brooklyn. It fit too well. Antonio swallowed a lump in his throat as Albert tapped him on the shoulder to get his attention.

“Yeah, I’m . . . fine, just thinking,” Antonio replied to Alberts questioning gaze. He smiled at him, pushing these thoughts out of his mind. If this really was Spot, he wouldn’t want it being known. Antonio had promised (and failed) and promised again to respect that.

“I started learning sign language,” Antonio said, changing the topic. “I mean, I learnt some basics from a few youtube videos.” Albert’s face lit up, and a large smile overtook his features. “I don’t know much, like enough to hold a conversation or anything but-"

Albert held a hand out to stop him from spiralling, then smiled again and gave a small wave followed by twisting his hands in a thumbs up position and pointing at Antonio. ‘Hi, how’re you?’

Antonio smiled in return, and tried his best at the ‘good’ sign, which caused Albert to chuckle as he awkwardly used his non dominant hand, holding a cup of soft drink in the other. Correcting him, and placing the cup down, Antonio tried again.

Albert left Antonio hours later in a giddy, excitable state. Head light and mind carefree, he got more work done than he normally did in three solid days and rested better than he had in years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am not Deaf/HOH, please let me know if there is anything here that is iffy in any way, not just to correct it but to learn from it!
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter. Thank you so much for reading!


	4. emotions are not my thing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which the four meet up, fun email banter ensues and Spot feels some things

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 24 at 7:32 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: the bees are more important_ **

_Racetrack,_

_Where did you get your nickname from then? Failing at Mario Kart?_

_Any person who devalues minorities in order to sustain their own image is pathetic. A fear of being labeled weak when the real weakness is not being able to get over their own fragility and strengthen it without stepping on others._

_You really are an idiot, by the way._

_Look after yourself better,_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 24 at 8:00 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: sorry_ **

_Race,_

_I think you deserve a better explanation. I’ve never been good at getting to know people properly or communicating personal things. I have my reasons and I expect you to respect that. Your emails help with that though, I guess._

_I’m not going to stop emailing you, so you can stop freaking out. I just needed time to process some things._

_If this mistake has anything to do with ‘the type of guy that would do anything to get one up on you,' I swear it will not be pretty, get the fuck out of any deal you have._

_Regards,_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 24 at 4:18 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: bet I could beat you at Mario Kart_ **

_My dearest Spot, it sounded for a moment there, that you cared about my wellbeing? Could that tough exterior be wilting, or am I going delusional?_

_The boring answer is that I spend a little too much time at the racetracks. The more exciting answer is that as a kid I used to race people around a racetrack nearby as a way to settle bets. Kinda became my thing. Answer for an answer, what’s the juicy story behind ‘Spot’?_

_Your loveable idiot,_

_Race_

 

_**FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 25 at 8:11 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: you wish_ **

_Race,_

_You need your head checked, you're clearly delusional. Especially if you think you can beat me at Mario Kart, you’re dreaming._

_I got in a fight with a gang leader. When the paramedics came I was covered in spots of his blood._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 25 at 8:34 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: you wish_ **

_Yeah, right_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 25 at 8:57 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: you wish_ **

_My workplace is messy and one day I turned up to address one of our rich clients with spots of oil and dirt on my face. When told to clean up I told him to take his flashy exhaust pipes and shove it up his ass._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 26 at 10:15 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: you wish_ **

_HA, THATS MY SPOTTY BOY_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 27 at 11:11 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: you wish_ **

_I hate you_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 27 at 11:45 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: you wish_ **

_You love me_

 

Sean finished up replacing the engine of the last car in his service. Covered in oil stains and sweat, he glanced at the time. He’d been conflicted about today to say the least. It was Friday, two weeks since he met Elmer. The day he was invited to ‘eat as much ice cream as you can possibly stomach’ with Elmer and his friends. Not only was this unsettlingly close to Racetrack, but also a different type of social event than he was used to. Talking, making jokes with a bunch of close friends was something he wasn’t accustomed to. Well, maybe one friend made that list.

Albert passed him by with an armful of spanners and wires. He was dismantling a motorcycle in the back, one of his own projects. He was planning on combining elements he’d collected over the years and even got into soldering and metal work to complete it’s design. Sean spun around to face him, and the speed of the movement caught Albert’s attention. Sean looked tense, and Albert noticed immediately.

 _“Are you doing anything tonight?”_ Spot signed.

Albert shook his head.

_“I was invited to go get ice cream with a friend, and his friends. Did you want to come? Apparently it’s free and unlimited.”_

This seemed to interest Albert for reasons other than the ice cream buffet, and he nodded eagerly before going to put away the metal in his arms and expressing his enthusiasm properly. The two tried to clean themselves up in a dirty basin at the back of the garage and found some relatively clean clothes.

As they entered the surprisingly hot ice cream shop, everyone seemed to make some large gesture at the newcomers. Seven people crowded the tiny room, sat on stools and on counters and tables. Elmer waved Sean over from the back of the shop. Albert and Antonio spotted one another and practically leapt into each others arms with the enthusiasm of seeing each other again. Specs jumped up onto Romeo’s lap to allow one of the newcomers a spare seat. Sean spotted his brother and accosted him and his boyfriends.

“So this is where you’ve been going Fridays, you ever thought to bring back some ice cream for me considering it's _fucking unlimited?_ ”

Jack just shrugged despite his growing grin. “Nice to see you too.” He turned to Romeo, Specs, Davey, Crutchie, Antonio and Elmer. “Everyone, my brother.”

Sean scoffed, and took a seat nearby Elmer, who was leant over the sorbet freezer to joke with Romeo. His coworker looked on from his own station, building a large tower out of cups he had stamped with the shop’s logo. Sean recognised him from the carnival, and now that he thought about it, he was the very same kid who took Elmer home two weeks ago.

“Antonio, at your service,” he gave a mocking bow. “What’re you after?”

Sean scanned over the many choices, but before he could decide, Jack called to Antonio from behind him. “Another house special over here, Tony!”

“Coming up,” Antonio grinned, taking a medium sized cup from his tower and getting to work. Apparently the house special was a small scoop of every single flavour squashed into a single cup. He used spatula-like scoopers to whip the ice cream and place it in the cup with some skill.

“Jack could never decide on what flavour to get so we just ended up giving him everything,” Elmer explained. “Want one?” Sean smirked at Jack, who wiggled his eyebrows at him in response. He shook his head.

“Antonio Alessandro Higgins, don’t you dare skip the sorbets,” Jack called.

“Wouldn’t dream of it.”

Two others, Mush and Blink joined then, and took the stool that Romeo and Specs had left spare. Albert leant on the freezer beside Antonio as he prepared ice cream and ate his cookies n’ cream and salted caramel scoops. He listened to him rant about the various customers they had served over the past week, and when the conversation grew too quick, Sean took to translating.

Elmer joined their conversation and it grew so loud and excitable that they had to lower their voices for the people eating in the next restaurant over. Albert had served a young lady that had denied beating her own car with a baseball bat, despite it being caught on camera. Elmer was asked to mop the floors and spray air freshener before some classist ass stepped one foot into the shop. They each had their own stories, and Sean could allow himself to admit that chatting with the four of them was the most fun he’d had in a long time.

Elmer calmed his laughter and asked Sean if he’s decided on which flavours he was having. “I’ll just have some vanilla thanks,” he said.

The blond fire cracker paused mid-sentence. “Why’re you even here?”

Elmer smirked and moved to the vanilla.

“You got a problem, Higgins?” Sean scowled, and Antonio held his hands up in defence.

The rest of the evening proceeded with way too much ice cream and nine giddy children. They left, ten house specials and three cup-towers later, and Antonio and Elmer were left to themselves to close the shop.

Antonio smirked as he caught his best friend sighing for the seventh time since their friends had left.

“Got it bad, huh?” He asked.

Elmer went bright red, and turned to face the other way in an attempt to hide it. “That obvious?”

“Don’t worry, you held it together pretty well,” Antonio slapped him on the back. “I’m just saying, if you really loved me you would share him,” he joked, winking for good measure.

Elmer rolled his eyes, “And what about you and Albert, huh? I couldn’t eat my ice cream over your heart eyes.” Antonio shrugged.

After gossiping like teenagers for the rest of the cleanup, the two left with grins on their faces and stomachs full.

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 31 at 12:07 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: emotions are not my thing_ **

_Race,_

_You know the kind of guys who, when you’re with them, things just seem better? Do you get that sorta shit or is it just me?_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: March 31 at 2:23 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: who’d a’ thunk it_ **

_You’re talking to a guy who grew up with one. If you mean a safe warm sorta feeling then, yeah, I get ya. Whatever you do, you do not want to let them go._

_Race_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> yes Race just quoted Hamilton, yes that was a beautiful spin on a previous quote, yes my friends love me for more than just my dazzling personality, free ice cream.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter!


	5. fight me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A chapter of email banter - Race and Spot bond over the weather, Brooklyn, escalators and overhead powerlines. Spot actually responds within the hour?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think this chapter is what some would call the calm before the storm.

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 2 at 5:10 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Heinz Baked Beans in a deliciously rich Tomato Sauce_ **

_Spot,_

_My dude, my man, my bro._

_I’ve been confined to my apartment with nothing but pasta (and no ingredients for sauce), baked beans that expired in 1960 and a single blanket._

_It’s too colllddddd for April. I shoulda gone stayed over in Manhattan with my friend Michael, he has central heating and the softest blankets._

_I’m bored, give me attention._

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 2 at 10:12 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Brooklyn is better_ **

_Fuck you its warm out._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 9:35 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: Brooklyn is better_ **

_Spot,_

_I beg to differ. Brooklyn has it’s perks, but doesn’t anything really beat Manhattan?_

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 9:52 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: fight me_ **

_Race,_

_Just because your ass can’t handle a little frost, you fuckwit. Brooklyn is by far the best borough. Not only is it the only one that has some balls, its far superior in every aspect. Your pompous little Manhattan doesn’t shine a light to it._

_Objectively, because of it’s rapid growth, Brooklyn has optimal employment opportunities and has the largest population of all the boroughs. It’s architecture is insane, its views are incredible and its night life is incomparable. Enjoy sitting in a one roomed apartment next to a car crash with Michael._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 12:18 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: fight me_ **

_Spot,_

_I’d hardly consider that objective. Plus, aren’t those views of . . . Manhattan? Oh and those crime rates . . ._

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 1:23 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: fight me_ **

_Race,_

_Yeah and those crime rates are going to sky rocket if I ever see your lousy ass._

_I’m sorry, did you say something?_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 12:18 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: fight me_ **

_Someones gone starry eyed for their hometown._

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 1:01 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: fight me_ **

_Fuck you im a bot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 3 at 12:18 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: fight me_ **

_Where do I unsubscribe_

 

Their banter continued like this throughout the week, and Antonio found himself refreshing his emails obsessively. Spot’s frequent replies meant he could ignore his oncoming debt, which was due just over a week from then. Instead he focused on this intense pen pal he had grown so fond of. Their debates grew personal rather than political. Antonio learnt that Spot liked hash browns, argued with mormons on a weekly basis and was weirdly annoyed at overhead powerlines and memory foam. He enjoyed pulling things apart and assembling them to make them ‘better’ and had never ran up the wrong escalator. The little details were more than Antonio could have wished for. The little details are what made up Spot.

Everything was relaxed, joyful and easy. That was, until the little details grew bigger, and each of them took a terrifying step into unknown territory.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 7 at 6:12 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Spot,_

_While your knowledge of nose damage is fascinating, (concerning, but fascinating!) I was wondering your opinion on reclaiming slurs?_

_I understand it’s a sore spot for many people, but I’ve never found a problem with it. I think identity and labels are such an important thing for the lgbt community in particular and labelling yourself should be your own choice. That being said I think the problem comes from screaming the words from the rooftops, and whether that makes other people uncomfortable. As long as these people aren’t using the slur for others, and only themselves I think it’s completely justified._

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 7 at 11:37 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Race,_

_If you’re in a position to reclaim slurs, go ahead. Some words should be handled with caution, using trigger warnings or only using the language in certain contexts or around certain people._

_It’s all about conditioning people to hear these words in a positive light. Slowly increasing positive exposure to them. While this is in process, many people aren’t in a position to use these words or hear them being used in relation to themselves._

_Regards,_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 8 at 12:11 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Spot,_

_Not the response I was expecting, though I agree people should be respectful to others on a case by case basis. But I fully support anyone who identifies with a slur (for themselves and only themselves) and this shouldn’t be restricted._

_Of course this changes depending on what words we’re talking about._

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 8 at 12:15 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Race,_

_Maybe I’m biased. Running away from gay slurs your entire life might do that._

_Spot_

 

_**FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com** _

_**TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com** _

**_DATE: April 8 at 12:17 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Ignore I said that, that’s none of your business and I shouldn’t have written it._

_I don’t even know you, who knows what kinda weirdo im writing to._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 8 at 12:26 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_I’m trans. Now we’re even._

_And I’d never be able to hear the t slur. We are human, that doesn’t make you weak, Spot._

_Yours,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 8 at 2:05 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: may your limbs rest in pieces_ **

_Thanks_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm on a roll with my pencils today, if any of you like a Love, Racetrack scene enough to see it drawn just let me know. Otherwise i'll just continue picking on other peoples fics lmao.
> 
> Tumblr is @sarsroses if you want to come chat or see my scribbles


	6. dear stranger, my secrets and soul attached

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean endangers Racetrack, and cleans up his mess.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Strap yourselves in folks, the tension is rising
> 
> TW: homophobic slur used

Sean laboriously typed his conclusion to his report on the dodgy old computer at his university library. Elmer’s cocky best friend sat across from him, noisily eating an apple and swinging his legs back and forth.

“So why’d you choose law?” Antonio asked, his bright blue eyes glinted as he looked on at Sean’s tense expression.

Sean huffed at the interruption and tried to resume his concentration. “Law’s a bit, you know, straight backed, isn’t it?” His friend continued.

Dark brown eyes looked up and Sean pinched his nose. “Let me focus, will you?”

It was Antonio’s turn to huff. Elmer had left him to wait with Sean while he collected some data from a professor in another building. Apparently this professor had helped Elmer consistently throughout his training and often provided him with texts to read despite Elmer having left his class.

Antonio was bored, and Sean looked as if he was going to break from stress over this essay. “You didn’t answer my question.”

“Why should I?”

Antonio shrugged.

“I got into a fight with a rich bastard and I intend to win.”

“Why’re you working here?”

“My laptop broke.”

“What happened to it?”

“It smashed.”

“How’d it smash?”

“Are you going to shut up and let me finish this, or do I have to make you?” Sean scowled, and turned back to the screen. A hundred more words, he could do this.

Antonio sulked beside him. He entertained himself by swinging in circles in the office chair he occupied and attempting to throw his apple core in the small trash can five meters away. He checked his phone almost obsessively and frowned every time he did.

Sean watched the blond boy from the corner of his eye. He tried to remember what Antonio had been like previously, passing him in corridors and seeing him in the library, bickering with the other students. Antonio was a spritely, enthusiastic kid with some fire to him. Some life to him. Now . . . Sean had decided to ignore his sunken eyes and messy hair, the lively eyes that were clouded over with lack of sleep. No, he didn’t want to get involved. He trusted Elmer to look after his friend, and doubted he could help if his best friend couldn’t. Sean paid no attention to him.

Finally, Sean finished and went to email the draft to his professor. Upon opening his inbox, however, he found an unread message from that very person who made his heart stop in his chest. A snarky asshole who broke down his facade and rudely made himself at home.

_Racetrack_

Without Race, he’d have pushed Elmer away, he would have remained concentrated on work and study - speaking only with Albert, keeping to himself. Now, he was sat with a friend of a friend, hanging out with not only them, but his brother and his friends on occasion. He wasn’t perfect, far, far from it actually, but he was getting better.

His anger was controllable, his anxiety less intense. He was comfortable.

_All thanks to Race._

“I like you, you’re cool.” Antonio said nonchalantly, breaking Sean from his thoughts.

Sean had to blink a few times to process Antonio’s words. “Uh, thanks?”

Truthfully, Sean liked Antonio. He was annoying as all hell, a complete asshole at times and always in his face. But, he was interesting, clever, witty . . . Nope, he was not going down that road.

“You too, Higgins.” he replied properly, considering his first reaction inadequate. Antonio smiled as if Sean had told him he was the love of his life. Sean rolled his eyes.

The little group that had formed from his friendship with Elmer, and Albert’s with Antonio, had sparked something new in all of them. He enjoyed their company. In Race’s words, he felt safe, warm, calm. His dark jokes and angry snark weren’t for reputation or defence. They were just him being, well, him. He relaxed as much as he could allow himself to around them.

After emailing his professor, Sean glanced at the awaiting email and back at Antonio. The boy was preoccupied with some rubber bands, wrapping them into a ball and chatting with a kid typing a few meters away.

Sean considered it safe enough to read through Race’s email and send a quick reply.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 11:18 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: dear stranger, my secrets and soul attached_ **

_Spot,_

_Very few people know that, by the way. My best friends and a few others that have known me for a long time. You’re now one of six._

_I’m not ashamed or anything, its just hard, I guess. I’m much more open about being bi :)_

_What I’m trying to say is its weird how much I trust you, random stranger over the internet. I don’t hate it, but I wish I did._

_Then again we’re not really strangers anymore, are we?_

_Yours always,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 4:32 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: dear stranger, my secrets and soul attached_ **

_Race,_

_I’m angry at myself for trusting you, but I do. For some reason I don’t regret that anymore._

_Then again I suppose you’re right, we’re not just strangers,_

_You mean too much._

_Spot_

 

Sean stretched his arms over his head. Well, he was not planning on getting that deep in the middle of a university computer lab. His actions alerted Antonio to his completing his essay, but he was distracted by Elmer who made his way over to them from the stairway.

“I’ll catch you both up, I’ve gotta print some stuff out and text Al, he might be off work to join us.” Sean explained. Antonio’s expression lit up at the mention of his new friend and the two set off for the shopping centre. On an impromptu thought, they had planned to hang out. Watch a movie, go to the arcade, eat those delicious pretzels sold on the third floor. It sounded fun.

Sean went through his report and printed out two copies, jogging over to the copier and waiting for it to be free. While waiting, he typed a quick text to Albert about hanging out and beating him in a game of battleships. Finally, he printed off his documents and turned to his computer, stopping in his tracks as he looked up.

The Delancey brothers stood at his computer, looking him directly in the eye. Sean had dealt with the Delancey’s before. He had gotten himself involved on behalf of other people in the past. The bent, irregular shape of their noses was no coincidence.

“What do you want?” Sean asked flatly.

Oscar held up a usb. “You going to the Racetracks this evening, Spotty boy?”

The anger that boiled up inside Sean was incomparable to anything he had felt. These bastards had purposefully overturned his private emails for blackmail material. Who knew how many that had saved, the few he had open? The emails from last night? All of them?

Either way, they had Race. They had his secrets, his identity, his life. Sean couldn’t see past this. He couldn’t let this happen. They would not use the most important thing he had in his life against him.

“Give it to me,” he demanded. Years of finely crafting his reputation lead up to this point. He stood tall (as tall as he could), staring them down.

Oscar paused, a sign that he was wavering at Sean’s request. Morris grabbed the device from him.

“I don’t think we will, Conlon. This here will ensure you backing off our business in future, got that, fag?”

Sean flinched. Okay, now he understood. Now he realised why he should have regretted trusting Racetrack, why he shouldn’t have let him in. Why Racetrack shouldn’t _mean so much to him_.

But still, he didn’t regret. How could he regret? Why didn’t he regret?

He remained silent as the Delancey’s laughed. The anger fluttering in his gut silent and deadly. He let them go, so as to make this private. He waited. They left. He followed.

He would make sure they never uttered Racetrack’s name ever again.

As they passed an alley he pulled Oscar inside, hand over his mouth so as not to alert passers by. Once Morris had realised his brother had disappeared, he came running towards them, only to find Oscar already on the ground. He helped his brother up.

Before they could both stand, Sean smacked Oscar upright the head and grabbed Morris so he was in a headlock. He managed to land a hard blow to the guy’s stomach before Oscar threw his fist into Sean’s jaw.

He staggered back, before coming at them again. The adrenaline and pure anger drove him beyond his limits. He didn’t even register the pain as Morris landed a punch to his gut, the asshole received a second in return. His brother knocked out seconds later.

As he left them lying on the ground, groaning and sniffling, he stomped his foot down hard on the usb he had found in Morris’s pocket.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 10:15 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: touched_ **

_Spot,_

_I’ve got some work to do and tried to distract myself by hanging out with a few friends. That didn’t work out so instead im rolling around with the stupidest grin on my face. Thanks for the distraction._

_I don’t know what I’d do without you here. Everything just feels right in my life, my friends, you, contrary to reality. I can forget all the bad things._

_I wish I could meet you, and I don’t mean to pressure you into that like I used to. I understand now that you’re working through some stuff and I’m happy to wait, or stay as we are. Whatever makes you comfortable._

_Yours always,_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 11:32 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: touched_ **

_Race,_

_Need I call you a nerd, or was that already covered?_

_I need more time. Thanks, though. I’m getting better, thanks to you. I know thats probably confusing but I’m grateful anyway. I don’t think I could face meeting you properly for a while yet. Maybe someday, though. Hopefully someday._

_I’m a bit tired, I’ll write more in the morning._

_Goodnight, Racetrack._

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 10:15 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: damsel in distress_ **

_Sir Spot,_

_Tired from defending your beautiful prince (yours truly) in an honourable battle, I hope._

_Your dazzling prince,_

_Racetrack_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 10:18 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: damsel in distress_ **

_How did you guess?_

_Your knight in shining armour,_

_Spot_

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 10:23 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: damsel in distress_ **

_Need me to patch you up? ;)_

_Race_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 9 at 10:28 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: damsel in distress_ **

_I know how to work a bandaid._

_Spot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter!


	7. April 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's April 12, a month after the bet, but Antonio doesn't have to face the Delancey's alone.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one of two discussing the happenings of April 12th

It was April 12.

That date didn’t mean anything to anyone. April 12 was another day.

Antonio ran a hand through his blond curls and scanned the people passing. Eyes flickering back and forth, palms sweaty and mouth dry. God, he could do with a cigarette right about now.

He was looking worse for wear. He hadn’t been getting much sleep for all the work he’d been doing at the shop. No one in his classes envied his attendance record, or the pile of papers on his desk from over three weeks ago. He was run down, and obsessively fidgeting.

He pulled out his wallet and counted the money he had stashed in a small envelope, just like he had done over and over again for his entire journey there. Not enough, not nearly enough. A whole months work and it could never be enough.

April 12 was the day Antonio Higgins was totally, completely and royally screwed.

April 12 was also the day his new friends were going to spend a day off together. ‘Relax,’ Antonio scoffed, yeah right.

He had arrived at the cinema early. Elmer had invited Antonio, Antonio had invited Albert and Albert had invited Sean. The four of them had become a thing since that one fateful friday-night-free. They had hung out a few times previously, but it was never properly planned and never for a full day.

Elmer and Antonio’s go-to hang out destination was always that one soft pretzel shop outside the cinema and arcade. So coincidentally they were always a common stop. As he passed the arcade, a familiar figure leant against a wall on his phone.

Another two figures stood a few meters off, glancing at him. Antonio chose to ignore those.

“Albert!” Antonio exclaimed, tapping him on the shoulder and exchanging a hug.

_“Hey, where are the others?”_ Albert signed slowly, so that Antonio could keep up. Antonio had improved his sign language a lot in recent weeks, and tried his best to sign back as he spoke. Albert helped him with the signs he struggled with.

“ _Elmer’ll be here in twenty, want a pretzel?_ ” Albert gave a thumbs up and they both ordered. Albert going for the ‘chocolate chip cookie wrapped pretzel’ and watched it being prepared behind the counter like it was all he ever needed in life. Receiving his cinnamon sugared pretzel, Antonio took out his wallet in the hopes of finding his card. His hands shook and fumbled, coins spilled out onto the floor and he cursed. Antonio and Albert scrambled to collect the coins and receipts up off the ground.

“Is this yours?”

Antonio looked up at the figure holding out a twenty dollar note. He went to take it, but it was snatched back.

“Actually no, I think it was mine.” The man pocketed the money and Antonio stood to face him. Oscar Delancey’s gaze was unwavering. Morris came forwards from behind him. The two stood tall to face Antonio.

“So?” Morris begun. “It’s been a month.”

Antonio swallowed thickly, and wordlessly dug the envelope out of his wallet, handing it over.

Oscar counted it over and shook his head. "This ain't enough."

He took a step forward, cracking his knuckles.

"What do we gotta do for ya to cough it up, huh?"

Antonio stood his ground, unmoving. “I ain’t got nothing more to give ya, fellas.”

Oscar raised his fist and threw a punch at Antonio's jaw. He didn't flinch, he took it, balling his hands into tight fists to bare the pain. He wasn’t stupid, he knew he couldn’t win a fight against the Delanceys on his own. He only hoped they’d get it over and done with, he wasn’t going to leave this fight without throwing a few punches of his own, for his prides sake.

He move to punch Oscar and hit his left rib. But with Oscar’s second throw, Antonio fell down with the impact.

He rubbed his temple and jaw, groaning as his hand came away with spots of blood. He looked up, ready to take the next blow as he lay defenceless. None came.

His vision was blurry, one of his contacts shifting off-centre. He tried to adjust it with is already shaking hands. He heard the sounds of fists and painful groans from other bodies just in front of him and panicked. It took Antonio time to recognise the man standing over him. Albert stood facing the Delanceys, and while he was injured, managed to stand his ground. He dealt another blow to Morris as the Delancey tried again to take a grab at Antonio.

The two brothers stood facing Albert, who opposed them with a strong stance and even stronger fists. Antonio wondered where Albert could have learnt to fight like that. He hoped it wasn’t from experience.

Antonio stood up to join his friend. The fight was even now. Albert grinned and together they took stance. Antonio would have been overly excited over how cool they looked as a team if only the circumstances had been different.

Albert, with new confidence, deflected one of Morris’s blows and landed one of his own square in the gut. Antonio ran for Morris while he was hunched over, and landed a strong punch to his jaw. Oscar attacked from behind, but was interrupted by Albert grabbing ahold of his wrists and swinging him into an armlock.

The four paused, breathless as Morris decided his next move, having his brother immobile. He tried to take another hit at Antonio, but it was dodged and the force of the swing made him stumble.

He ground his teeth as he stared Antonio down. “We’ll leave you be today. But don’t think you've got out of this one, Higgins. We're coming for you."

Reluctantly, they left, Morris slightly limping. They wondered over to the arcades, their figures disguised by the flashing lights and games.

The security that was called on the boys let them off after explaining the act of defence. They were given basic first aid for their injuries, but it turned out to be nothing worse than a few bruises and cuts. A bloody nose on Antonio’s part and a cracked lip on Albert’s. They sat on a bench overlooking the cinema and arcade.

Antonio turned to his friend, a sheepish expression on his face. “You didn’t have to do that for me, you know?” He tried, Albert was having none of it.

_“Of course I did.”_

“No, really, I could’ve taken it.”

Albert put a hand over Antonio’s mouth and shook is head. His eyes were soft and he gave Antonio a comforting smile. He pulled out his phone to type as the conversation grew more serious.

_‘We’re friends aren’t we? I’m not going to just leave you.’_

Antonio let out a shaky breath. “Thanks.”

Silence passed.

“You’re . . .”

Albert raised an eyebrow.

“Amazing.”

A smile.

_“Thanks.”_

“Guess those muscles aren’t just pretty to look at, huh?” Antonio joked, attempting to lighten the mood. Instead Albert looked away. Antonio realised the implications of his words.

Albert seemed almost magical to Antonio. Every feature cloaked by rose coloured lenses. He realised something, and looking back on their friendship, it had been true for a long time. Surprisingly, he wasn’t nervous. If what Elmer told him was anything to go by, Albert liked him back. If knowing Albert told him anything, it was that Albert wouldn’t hate him if he didn’t.

His expression grew serious again. In a leap of faith, he tapped Albert on the shoulder, his eyes shifted back to his friend. Antonio held his breath. He spoke on impulse. He had to get this out, it was the perfect moment. The two of them sat together, arms brushing, blushes on their cheeks in comfortable silence.

He looked at Albert for a moment longer, and watched his friend patiently wait for him to say something.

“I like you.”

Albert blinked, eyes wide, and repeated the phrase. Maybe he hadn’t caught it quite right. _“You like me?”_

Antonio nodded.

A smile grew on Albert’s face and he pulled his friend into a hug. Highly emotional and tired, the boys gasped with laughter and tears. They refused to move, and for the while they sat still, Albert drew hearts on Antonio’s back to assure him that, yes, he felt the same.

Then, Albert remembered the reality of the situation Antonio was in, and pulled away.

_“What happened before?”_

It was Antonio’s turn to look away. After a moment, he turned back and signed his reply.

_“It doesn’t matter.”_

Albert’s glare was enough for him to take that back.

“I made a stupid bet and owe more than I can pay.”

Albert sighed.

“Please, please don’t tell Elmer. He will just worry, he has enough to deal with himself, he doesn’t need to stress about me too.” Antonio tried to slow down despite his urge to ramble.

_“He has a right to worry.”_

Antonio put his head in his hands.

“I’ll tell him, I promise, just not today. I need to relax today, you’ve seen what my month’s been like. Please?”

Albert nodded and Antonio practically leapt for joy, swinging his arms around Albert’s shoulders. They both laughed again, and finally, everything was okay. They sat in comfortable silence, neither of them feeling the need to speak. They sorted through their thoughts side by side. Albert took Antonio’s hand. They sat a little closer than they had previously and watched people pass by in silence.

Antonio stood up, held out a hand to Albert and gave his best grin.

_“Bet I could beat you at ‘Dance Dance Revolution’.”_ He signed, miming dancing for lack of the sign.

Albert laughed at his friend’s antics and showed him the correct sign, before replying.

_“Race you there.”_

Antonio’s head tilted quizzically and Albert rolled his eyes with a teasing smile. He finger spelled Race and pointed at Antonio. _“Race you.”_

Antonio seemed to freeze, and stuttered something Albert didn’t quite catch.

“Race?”

_“Yeah.”_

“I’m . . . Race."

Antonio stared at Albert with wide eyes for a moment, before he shook his head as if dispelling an intrusive thought.

“Yeah, yeah. Race me - Race you there, yeah.” Before they set off, Antonio caught sight of a figure from the corner of his eye. Oscar Delancey, close enough that he could hear the conversation previous.

He was smiling.

Antonio snapped himself out of it. There was no way he would know about his emails with Spot. There was no way he could know what those words meant.

They ran. Albert arrived first and inserted a coin to play. They got in position, and danced like their lives depended on it. Albert won, and they both left the game out of breath and giddy with energy.

Now they stood facing one another with wide genuine, soft smiles. They looked at one another like it was their first time seeing the light in Antonio’s eyes or the dimples in Albert’s smile.

Albert shuffled awkwardly, his eyes shifted down, around, anywhere but his friend. Suddenly he looked serious, nervous, unsure. The tension hadn’t quite eased from their previous conversation, and they had to address it sooner or later.

_“What now?”_ Albert signed, and Antonio knew he didn’t mean the arcade games.

_“I don’t know.”_ He replied, and his eyes wondered the room. He didn’t know. He liked Albert, that much was obvious to him. But his mind was everywhere; there was something missing. He envisioned a future with Albert, because that’s what it would be. A future. He wanted Albert by his side, badly. But something was missing, something he couldn’t figure out and it sent his head spinning.

“I want to take this somewhere, if you want to as well. I just . . . I just need to sort some things through. Do you mind waiting? Just until I can figure myself out?”

Albert gave a soft smile. _“I’ll wait.”_

Before Antonio realised what was happening, Albert put his hand out to hold Antonio’s cheek. He kissed him lightly and pulled back.

_“Whatever you need.”_ He smiled.  _“I’ll wait for you.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sickeningly sweet Newsies? I'll allow it.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter! Much more drama to come Friday.


	8. [No Subject]

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 + 2 = Sean

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ladies, gentlemen and non binary pals, welcome aboard sarsroses Airlines, ‘Love, Racetrack’, non-stop emotional train wreck service from Chapter 8 to Chapter 11, those still standing may take the next flight to chapter 12.
> 
> Our flight time will be of 4 full chapters over a duration of 2 weeks. We will be flying at an altitude of ‘holy heck’ meters at a ground speed of ‘please stop hurting them’ kilometers per hour.  
> At this time, make sure your back is fully supported by cushions, tissues are within reach, and that your seat belt is correctly fastened. Also, your portable electronic devices must be connected to the internet, and must be easily disabled incase of emeregency. Thank you.

Five minutes later, Antonio and Albert were engaged in a competitive game of ‘Supreme Racer 1000’. Elmer and Sean turned up to watch the end of the game, and the four of them had a round-robin, Antonio coming out as the ultimate victor.

Jack and several of his friends filed in behind them much to Sean’s disdain. They challenged one another at Space Invaders and made enough noise to interrupt the entire floor behind them. Antonio, Albert, Sean and Elmer gathered together separately.

“What happened to you two?” Sean asked, gesturing to their no doubt swollen faces.

Albert shuffled on his feet. Antonio took mock offence, “Pardon you, I look gorgeous.”

“Tony.” Elmer warned.

“I fell over and dragged Albert down with me.” He explained. Elmer maintained his gaze, prying the truth out of an obvious lie, but Sean shrugged.

“Somehow, I can believe that.”

The four played all the games they could afford, (which wasn’t many); Antonio was the best at the chance games, Sean at strength and Elmer at speed. Albert beat everyone at the video games. While Sean and Albert commenced their last round of air hokey, Antonio took a step back to watch his three best friends bicker and laugh together.

They all earned enough tickets to buy themselves keychains of the Brooklyn Bridge. Antonio loved his, he put it with his keys immediately and fiddled with it while he waited for his turn.

It reminded him of Spot.

Albert had brought the smart-ass to mind, after all. He thought back to every email that had been sent, and tried to collate what evidence he could. Maybe Albert was Spot. There was a slight chance. It did fit.

He sorted through everyone he knew. Jack and his friends were out of the ballpark. His classmates, the ones he knew didn’t fit. The three in front of him did. That was terrifying, but also somehow comforting. Knowing Spot might be right in front of him, knowing one of these three could be the boy he had grown so close to.

Knowing Spot. Antonio imagined him in real life, though he didn’t have much to go on. The presence of Spot in his mind was enough. It was comforting in a way, he knew the boy’s inner turmoil and nature before he knew who he was. He connected with Spot on a level he hadn’t with anyone before. And for that, he could only imagine the best.

Spot meant the world to him, and if he was one of his friends, all the more reason. Something was missing though, something he needed to figure out. Why did Spot mean so much? It was more than just a distraction for him now. He had always liked their banter and discussions and recent personal anecdotes. But he also liked Spot himself. Can you even like someone through a screen as much as he did? His breathing grew uneven and he focused on calming it.

He hoped to god Spot was Albert. Unless he liked two people at once, was that even possible?

He sighed, it was useless. He was never going to meet the asshole through the screen. Spot didn’t want to be known, maybe ever, and Antonio respected that. He just hoped there was a chance.

Maybe emailing him would take his mind off it for a while. It always did calm his anxiety at times like this. Maybe he could send this and enjoy his time with his friends for a moment without worrying about Spot and Albert and the Delanceys and Elmer.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 12 at 1:45 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Yoshi in a blanket fort_ **

_Heya Spot,_

_Please dear heavens tell me you’ve made a blanket fort before though. It’s bad enough you sleep with One Thin Sheet (yes im still bitter)._

_My best friend and I made one once that covered my entire apartment. That story ends in pizza stained sheets, a fire alarm and a lost friend (don’t ask). When I said I live in a nest of blankets and pillows, I meant it. What is better than snuggling in as many soft blankets you can get your hands on?_

_What’re your favourite arcade games? Secretly, I’m really good at claw machines, don’t tell anyone. I’ll send you a giant plush Yoshi in the mail._

_Yours always,_

_Racetrack_

 

Antonio pressed send, and rolled his shoulders back. He went to put his phone back with his things, realising it was his turn to verse Sean, the reigning champion, at air hockey. As he tied up his bag and checked on his things, he noticed a phone go off. He picked it up.

“Hey Sean, you’ve got a message from . . .”

Sean turned to face Antonio, who had trailed off mid sentence. He swallowed down his panic and bit his tongue.

“. . . Racetrack? What sort of a name is that?”

His acting fooled the best, it seemed. Sean smiled. Antonio had never seen him smile so wide.

“A dumbass one.” Sean replied.

Elmer frowned, Sean noticed.

Antonio handed to phone over to Sean and watched as he read his own message. Every little movement was noted, a smirk as he began, his eyebrows furrowed (no doubt from his little story). His eyes lit up with the personal reference then darkened again, as Sean glanced around at the arcade. He gave his phone a cautionary glance.

Antonio figured he might have gone a little too far with his last question. Sean continued nevertheless to type out his own message. Antonio turned his own on silent, so as not to arouse suspicion.

While Sean typed, Antonio went into overdrive.

Sean, it was Sean all along. Of course, that made sense. Antonio didn’t know what he really expected, and he was far from disappointed.

Elmer snapped him out of it, and he realised he was staring into space. Instead, he beamed a wide smile to cover over his shock.

“Bet you can’t beat me at ‘whack a mole’,” he challenged Sean.

Sean looked up from his phone, Antonio saw him press send and his own phone vibrated in his pocket.

“You’re on.”

As soon as Antonio beat Sean and Albert, as well as losing a competitive battle against Elmer, Antonio checked his messages.

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 12 at 2:29 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: Re: Yoshi in a blanket fort_ **

_Race,_

_Of course I’ve made a blanket fort, though clearly never one as impressive as yours._

_I’m not going to ask, but that is concerning. Did you find your friend in the end?_

_I like air hockey, or any of the other physical games._

_Win me a goomba and I’ll take it._

_Yours,_

_Spot_

 

Antonio waited to continue the conversation, the party deciding to stroll through the food courts and shops. He was giddy, and his new friends noticed. They’d probably never seen him so nervous with energy, considering the past month he had been dead with lack of sleep.

Elmer grew even more concerned. His friend’s sudden mood swing was more concerning than his constant depression, something he assumed to be the stress of uni finally catching up to him. And then there was that conversation with Sean. Elmer knew who Racetrack was, hell, he came up with the nickname when they were children.

But when he pulled Antonio to the side, he insisted he was okay. When he mentioned Sean, his voice grew almost urgent. He tried to convince Elmer it was just a prank and his friend let it slide, with the promise of secrecy.

Antonio’s energy was nothing to be taken lightly though. Elmer knew his best friend. This was the high before everything came crashing. His hands always fidgeting, his mouth constantly moving, as if when he stopped he would be forced to face a reality he didn’t want to. As if he had to ramble about something, anything to distract himself from an internal panic.

He resolved to ring him that night. Find out what all of this was about.

Soon enough, Albert was called in to close shop and Elmer left for a night shift at the hospital. They left on good terms, and Antonio raced home to reach his laptop. He stopped in front of it. Paced his room for over an hour, running his hands through his hair and trying to calm his breathing.

The ringing of his phone made him jump. He let it go to voicemail, but heard his best friend’s voice and immediately picked up.

“Elmer, hi.”

Elmer sounded relieved at the sound of his voice. “Tony, I’m just on break, can’t talk long.”

Antonio knew what was coming, “Yeah, what’s up?”

“Was everything okay today?”

“It’s nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Tony, we both know that’s a lie.”

Antonio ran a hand through his hair and chewed on his lip. “I might have been involved in a bad bet.”

“Tony . . .”

“Albert helped out, it’s okay now.”

“You got in a fucking fight?” Antonio heard Elmer sigh. There was a silence, and Antonio wasn’t sure whether Elmer had hung up without him hearing. “So that’s why you asked for extra shifts.”

“. . . yeah, look, El, sorry I didn’t tell you, I just . . .”

“Didn’t want me to worry?”

“Yeah.”

“Tony, I know it’s hard for you to understand, considering . . . everything. But we’ve got your back, you know? We’re your friends, I’m here to help in whatever way I can. Same with the others.”

Antonio didn’t reply.

“So what’s this prank on Sean? Need any help setting it up?”

A weak smile on Antonio’s side. “Nah, nah, it's a surprise.”

“Alright, night Racetrack.” Elmer chuckled. “I look forward to it.”

Antonio went to hang up.

“Just, before I go, I was meaning to tell you something . . .” Elmer said, his voice small.

Antonio could feel his heart hammering in his chest. His mouth went dry.

There was chatter in the background on Elmer’s end and he sighed again.

“I’ve got to go, I’ll tell you some other time, I guess, get some rest.”

The line went dead.

Elmer always had his back, he had supported him through the most difficult parts of his life. He had always been there. What would he do without his best friend? He rubbed his eyes. His gaze falling back to the laptop on his desk.

Suddenly all the panic came back. He didn’t know what to do, to say. He was almost certain Sean would panic if he found out that Race knew. He had to let him down lightly. He had to know how Antonio felt, otherwise he would explode.

He had to do something, anything. He wrote out several ideas on a scrap piece of paper.

_Spot, you’re even better in real life_

_Spot, you’re a wonderful short ball of anger and I think I like you_

_Sean, hi_

_Spot, ur hot_

_Sean, fuck u for being so damn cute_

Every one of them ended up scrunched and trashed. Instead, he just wrote what first came to mind.

Not one of his brightest ideas.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 13 at 12:39 am_ **

**_SUBJECT: [No Subject]_ **

_Spot,_

_I don’t know where you’re at with these emails and me. I know It was only a few days ago you said you needed more time, and I completely understand. I know you’re still working through some things yourself. I know its taken a lot for you to trust me and talk to me and I promise I won’t reveal anything about myself that you don’t want me to and I’m really, really sorry._

_Just, don’t hate me. This was completely by accident, I didn’t mean to figure it out but . . . I know who you are._

_And that means nothing if you don’t want it to. I figured it out today, I think you realised that I was at the arcade as well. That was a bit of a dumb move on my part._

_And im not disappointed or anything, honestly im really happy it was you. You’re not who I expected, but I think I finally realise how much you mean to me, and why. It doesn’t matter who you are, you are and always will be that dickhead I’ve grown to love._

_That’s confusing to me too. Honestly I like so many people right now im doing my head in. Even my best friend is giving me butterflies. Maybe Im going crazy. But I do know one thing, and I have to tell you before I drive myself insane with the anticipation._

_Sorry but, I really like you, Sean._

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wonder how Sean's going to take this....


	9. throwing punches in the dark

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean breaks down

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: mentions of drug abuse and domestic violence.
> 
> If this affects you in any way, I'll write out a short summary of the chapter in the end notes.
> 
> Let Spot have feelings 2k18

Sean dropped his phone.

He couldn't bring himself to care as the screen shattered.

_Sorry but, I really like you, Sean_

Racetrack using his name felt like a punch to the gut.

Racetrack admitting his feelings felt like he'd been hit by a car.

Panic rattled his mind to the point he was leaning over a sink and throwing up into it.

He felt so vulnerable. He hated it. As it always did with Sean, panic was quickly replaced by anger. He clenched his fists, his brows knitted.

This time, that wasn’t enough. His stomach still churned, his shoulders shook. He slammed his fists down on the kitchen counter beside him. Clenching his hands tighter he attempted to get a grip on the emotions that ran wildly.

The feeling of knowing that someone so close to him had so much information on him. Had so much of a one up on him. Perhaps he wouldn't have reacted so badly if Race was someone he'd talked to once or twice, if Racetrack mutually met him as he did Race. The game would have been even. But Racetrack was someone he hung out with, had bonded with. Had been so close to. Had let inside. Racetrack knew so much about him, probably more than anyone had ever known. If he had been a stranger, they could have built a friendship on the knowledge they had gathered. But they were so so close physically and Sean didn't know _who_.

He didn't know where to turn, who to keep his eyes on, who to threaten to keep everyone away. They _knew_ him. They were close to him. They were like a double agent, ready to attack at any time.

Who knew him more than he knew himself? Who was it that held all this information?

He was throwing punches in the dark.

He tried to remind himself that Racetrack was safe. Racetrack was the witty asshole he let himself relax with. He had to trust Racetrack. He had to believe everything was okay.

Who _was_ Racetrack?

If he was at the arcade when Sean had received that message, he had to be one of the three boys he was with, the Delancey's, the tender nearby or Jack and his friends at the claw machine.

The claw machine? He wracked his brain for their faces, names, for anything. He recognised most of them from the ice cream shop. Mush, Blink, Specs, Romeo, Davey, Crutchie, Kathrine, Sarah and a few others. He didn’t know any of them enough to tell if they were Racetrack, but perhaps they knew him. He could rule out his brother and his boyfriends, being loyal to their relationship, but the others . . . he wasn’t sure if they were best friends who secretly liked one another or already together. It could be any one of them.

He took a deep breath, and thought to the other possibilities.

He ruled out the Delancey's immediately, mainly because the idea made him want to throw up again. He knew the Delancey's, unfortunately, they didn't have the tact to fake an identity and keep it hidden - especially when that identity had opinions too opposite and in depth for them to pretend.

That left Albert, Elmer or Antonio.

If he also liked his best friend, that meant he could rule out Albert. If Race was Al, his best friend and Spot would be the same person. Racetrack implied that they were different people.

He didn’t know Antonio enough to determine anything. He knew he was enough of a dumbass for it to be possible. If he was Racetrack, he’d have to have been a pretty talented actor. He lumped him in with Jack’s friends.

Then he remembered the frown on Elmer’s face when he heard the name ‘Racetrack’. It was one of realisation, of confusion. The way Elmer’s eyes flicked between him and the phone.

Okay. Okay, if it was Elmer he would be okay. If it was Elmer he could fix this.

It would be awkward as anything, but he trusted Elmer. Perhaps not with the secrets he had revealed to Racetrack, but if it had to be anyone, he hoped to god it was Elmer.

Still, it was too early. He was healing, he was growing and learning to trust but this was far far too soon. The idea of someone knowing so much about him made his hair stand on end and his heart rate accelerate.

Sean took ten minutes to breathe. This wasn’t okay, such a violent reaction wasn’t okay. He knew the cause of this mistrust. He knew he had to deal with this. He couldn’t continue like this.

His thoughts fell on Albert. Albert could help. Albert knew some of his past, he was there when he needed him before. Maybe Albert could help again.

This went far, far beyond Racetrack. This was something deep rooted. Something he had needed to address for a long time. He couldn’t do this alone, and as much as he wanted to stay inside all day, he used work as an excuse to let himself seek the comfort of a familiar face.

He was late for work, but couldn’t bring himself to care, at least the panic meant he wasn’t hungry enough to waste time eating breakfast.

His breath caught in his throat as the doorbell sounded.

He managed to get himself looking presentable enough to open his apartment door. Outside Crutchie leaned on his crutches, struggling to hold a giant goomba plushie. He held it up so that it covered most of his face.

“From Race, apparently. I know nothing, he just told me to give you this.”

Sean stared at Crutchie in silence. Crutchie lived in the same apartment building with his roommate and boyfriends Jack and Davey. Sean and Crutchie were on good terms, you could almost say they were friends, Sean tolerated him that much.

But here he was holding a gift from Racetrack.

A giant stuffed goomba with a bright red ribbon stuck to it’s foot. Sean stood watching it as if it would move.

“You alright?” Crutchie asked after Sean hadn’t responded.

Sean ignored his question. “Who is Racetrack?”

Crutchie shrugged. “Can’t tell you that. No matter how much you have on me, he won my favourite socks in a bet - don’t ask. I want them back.”

He took the plush toy in his hands and contemplated throwing it in the trash. Instead he decided to throw it behind him and into his apartment. He noticed a folded piece of paper attached to the ribbon. He took a deep breath, and would beat the living daylights out of anyone who might have seen his hands falter as they passed him.

_Sean,_

_I spent three hours at a claw machine, have six Mario plushies at my apartment and no lunch. You’d better fucking appreciate your giant goomba you gorgeous asshole._

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

Sean scrunched the paper into a ball with his fist and shoved it deep into his pocket. He wasn’t sure how he felt about this in the slightest. He was angry at Racetrack, but he couldn’t lie and say that the note, however simple, didn’t mean a lot to him.

Crutchie left him to his thoughts and he arrived at work half an hour late. His boss let him go with little excuse, he was generally a reliable employee. Instead of getting to work straight away, he made his way to Albert.

 _“Can I talk to you a second?”_ He signed.

Albert let Sean lead him to a back room, noticing the frenzied look on his friend's face.

_“What’s up?”_

Sean paused. He didn’t know where to start, what to say. He just knew he needed his best friend.

_“I’m a little bit out of my depth.”_

Albert sat Sean down on some rickety fold out chairs from a pile in the corner. He sat down next to him. He watched as his friend’s hand shook slightly.

He had only ever seen Sean this bad once, five years ago. Back when he had nowhere else to go. Albert had listened to him and helped clam him down. He knew he was one of the only people Sean had allowed to see him so vulnerable.

Last time, it was bad. He was bleeding from several places and bruised in more and Sean hadn’t been able to control his outburst.

He had wrecked the shop. His anger had no where to go but outwards. Tears stung Sean’s eyes as he knocked everything off his desk and kicked the doorframe of his office. Albert had watched calmly before approaching his friend and holding his shaking hand.

Sean had collapsed into a chair then, and they sat together in silence for over half an hour before he could speak.

That was the night Sean had left home.

Albert knew Sean’s home life wasn’t comfortable. Not because Sean had told him, but because he avoided every question about his family he could. At the time, Sean and Albert had been friends and coworkers for a year. He had never really felt comfortable telling Albert the details of that night. But Albert was content with letting him stay at his families home regardless. He stayed for upwards of a week until he took off again, being offered a permanent place with Jack and his adoptive mother, Medda.

This time felt more fragile. He took his friend’s hand, like he had done three years ago. He let Sean hold it with both of his, and felt tears fall onto his skin.

He had been holding off the emotions relating to his past all morning. The flashbacks, the feeling of helplessness shoved deep down, instead letting himself focus on the Racetrack dilemma. But truthfully, Racetrack knowing who he was dug up these old feelings to the point he was snapping himself out of flashbacks.

He couldn’t continue like this for much longer.

Fifteen minutes passed before Sean let Albert’s hand go. He looked down at the ground.

_“My mother was an addict. She didn’t hurt me, much, at least.”_

Albert nodded.

_“My father was too weak to do anything. He was beaten, hit, kicked. He just let it happen.”_

Sean looked back up at him.

_“I hated him even more than her. I vowed never to be like him, so weak, so cowardly. So, I got in some bad crowds. There, I learned to fight back, and it was the most liberating thing.”_

Tears welled up in his eyes once more, but he kept his gaze on Albert strong.

 _“But those people - well, you can imagine.”_ He wiped his tears, an expression of anger taking over his face. _“I was what I wanted, strong, unyielding. I hurt people I didn’t mean to.”_

He smiled softly at his friend, they both knew what he meant. An incident they didn’t wish remember, an incident that was resolved long ago.

_“And now I - I’m scared I can’t change. I did too good a job. Every time I relax, I think of him. Too aggressive, of her.”_

_“Is this about our new friends?”_ Albert tried to contribute. Sean nodded. He didn’t want to think about Racetrack right now.

_“Sean, I don’t know how much this helps but, as far as I know, you’re strong and tough and defensive about the right things, you’re calm and caring and soft about the people that matter. I’m no therapist but, you can have anger without aggression, right? You can be kind without being a pushover,”_

_“I know that but -“_

_“I know, I know, I just mean, we’re here for you, okay? Not just me but El and Tony too. If there’s anything we can do to help, you’ll just let us know. You’re not fighting this alone.”_

Sean nodded, and the two sat in a still silence until their boss called for them. They stood and made their way through to the small office where Sean expected there to be a small pile of paperwork for him to sign off.

He felt numb. Unloading emotion after years of keeping it in does that to a person. It wasn’t a bad feeling though. He expected himself to regret ever mentioning anything so personal to Albert. He just didn’t feel anything.

And that was good.

The the storm had calmed.

The next day Sean arrived at work to his boss, Smalls stood by his desk to greet him with a pot plant in her hands. She held it out to him.

Quizzically, he took it, and noticed the red ribbon tied around a terracotta pot, and with it, a note.

“Who gave you this?” He demanded. Smalls raised an eyebrow.

“None of your concern.” She deadpanned.

“Smalls, you’d better fucking-“

“Or what? You’ll throw a punch? We both know I’d beat you.”

“What’d he bribe you with?”

“He bought me a large burrito, I was hungry.” She crossed her arms and looked into the distance at a new customer pulling into the driveway.

“And no you can’t buy me more, he snuck me an entire two litre tub of peanut ice cream. You can’t beat that if you tried.”

Sean huffed, and unfolded the note.

_Sean,_

_Do you like the cactus? It’s short and spiky like you._

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

He allowed himself to smile. Okay, maybe talking to Albert did help a little. A lot.

Sean’s shoulders slumped, he felt like a great weight had been lifted from them. He was still wary of Racetrack, but he allowed himself to think of the person he’d met and talked with all this time as just a person. The witty smart-ass he grew to know and love. Wait, no, no, not love. Know and . . . tolerate. He dismissed the thought.

He placed the note in his pocket carefully and continued his work.

The next day, Sean pulled up in his university parking lot to find Jack stood there waiting for him. He held a plain flat stick with a red ribbon tied to it.

Jack gave him his best grin. “This is from -“

“Racetrack? I guessed.” Sean went to take the stick and glared at it with disgust. “What the fuck is this?”

Jack just shrugged.

“Go on then, what’d he bribe you with?”

“I didn’t need bribing, I agreed just to spite you.”

Sean scoffed, and threw a playful punch at his brother’s shoulder. This resulted in a small grapple between the two before Jack spotted David in the distance and off to greet his boyfriend.

Sean opened the note attached.

_Sean,_

_I bought you cotton candy from the carnival. Then I realised I couldn’t give it to Jack and have you receive it in one piece, so I ate it for you. You probably don’t even like cotton candy._

_If you want to know who I am, or want me to cough up some black coffee or something as compensation, I’ll be at the carnival across from your workplace. Meet me from 6:00pm on April 20th._

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I probably made Sean a bit soft, but tbh I don't really care - he is human.
> 
> Let me know if you enjoyed the chapter!
> 
> (Summary: Sean panics about Race knowing so much about him in real life, and feels vulnerable and defenceless. This brings back memories and feelings of his past which he discusses with Albert. This helps him take a step forward in recovering from his past. Meanwhile, Racetrack sends Sean gifts and notes through their friends Crutchie, Smalls and Jack making jokes and eventually asking him to meet Race at the carnival on April 20, 6:00pm.)


	10. please, they know everything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sean fucks up again, but this time his fists fall short

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The chapter in which my Beta called my fic 'premeditative death'

On April 17th, Sean strolled down the halls of his university. He thought of Racetrack and smiled to himself. He was calmer now, time is the best medicine after all.

He was still angry at the boy. What, he’d told almost everyone about his relation to Race just for a few notes. People knowing anything was a problem, a big one. Luckily his snarky comments disguised this treachery to the point that it was reasonable enough to save a dent in his car.

Still, he was often caught staring into space. When he imagined Race, it was dark hair, dark eyes and a wide smile. He tried to be partial, but his hopes of Race’s identity were the only thing keeping him calm.

Truthfully, while Racetrack regrettably occupied many of his thoughts, he couldn’t help but think about his new friends a little too much. They were a breath of fresh air. He had changed so much thanks to them, he had made so much progress in healing from his past and he couldn’t owe them enough.

He thought of them fondly, too fondly in his opinion. And often, unnaturally so. He tried not to think of the reason to this.

As he passed the a small cafe on the way to his next lecture, Antonio spotted him and ran over immediately. Apparently, he had been searching for over half an hour to find him. He bounded at Sean as soon as he found him, the entire time his grin never faded.

“What’re you smirking at?” Sean asked with little interest, he moved forwards down through the university hallways and Antonio followed him, bouncing rather than walking.

“I have a gift.”

Sean halted. “From Racetrack?” He’d assumed he’d received the last of the gifts. He couldn’t help the grin that played on his lips at the surprise.

Antonio nodded. “I was given very specific instructions.” He reached into his extra large messenger bag and brought out a toilet seat. A red ribbon was tied around it.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me.”

Antonio’s smile widened.

“There’s no note?”

The boy jumped, suddenly remembering the best part. He fumbled around in the large bag and handed Sean a small sheet of paper.

_Sean,_

_Don’t worry, you’re still a piece of shit. <3 _

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

Sean looked up from the note to find Antonio analysing him through the toilet seat, using it as if it were a magnifying glass. He shoved his friend lightly on the shoulder.

“He told me to do that.” Antonio defended himself.

Sean scoffed. “What’d the legendary Racetrack do for you then?”

Antonio shrugged. “Nothing, he called it a game and I wanted in.”

Rolling his eyes, Sean smiled at his friend. They went their seperate ways, Sean refusing to take his gift and shoving the note deep into his pocket. Antonio wandered down the hall, his jaw sore from his wide grin.

Sean walked down to the opposite end of the hallway and into his next lecture, his fond smile not leaving his face.

_Racetrack strikes again, leaving Sean defenceless to his emotions._

He had been thinking over going to the carnival with Racetrack almost obsessively since he had received the note. He could hardly concentrate on his lecture, taking instead to turning the piece of paper over in his hands. He stared at the handwriting, all in capitals to disguise itself.

He tried to convince himself that he wouldn’t go, but it was impossible. Of course he would.

Three hours and two lectures later, he was free. Making his way down to the parking lot, he planned his study for the rest of the evening.

When his eyes found his car, he saw the Delanceys waiting beside it.

His smile dropped immediately. He made his way up to them without hesitation.

“The fuck do you want this time?” He stood just too close to Morris Delancey, his stance ready to fight. He was risking nothing, not now.

“Nothing with you, Spotty boy.” Oscar smirked. Sean almost growled at the use of his nickname. Morris stood taller, matching Sean’s threatening stature with his height.

“With Racer, maybe.”

Sean tried to maintain his stoic expression, but it was obvious how the comment had affected him. For a second, his frown fell - just a twitch, before it was back again stronger than ever.

“You bastard, what the fuck are you talking about?”

The brothers exchanged a confident smile.

“He owes us a little something. You gave us enough information on him to get that.” Oscar said.

Sean ground his teeth. This wasn’t happening, it couldn’t be. It was. They had him and Racetrack in their trap. They knew Sean would do anything for Racetrack. They knew how much this would hurt.

_Shit._

Sean tried to think rationally. How did they figure out who Racetrack was before he did? Maybe they’re bluffing. But if they’re not? He couldn’t let them figure out that he didn’t know Racetrack’s real identity. Such a show of weakness. If they knew that, they had everything. They could do anything to Race just to spite Sean and he couldn’t do a thing to stop it.

Well, they could already do that.

Then why were they telling Sean? _Oh right,_ the shiner sporting the rim of Oscar’s left eye. Still, their confidence was idiotic, to go after Racetrack with Sean as a potential body guard. There must have been something more at play here. Or perhaps they really were that stupid.

They were that stupid.

Upon seeing the murderous glint in Sean’s eyes, the Delanceys sprinted. He ran after them as fast as his legs could possibly carry him.

Down through the main street, dodging people, cars and market stalls. Sean weaved his way through a mess of chairs and tables that had been knocked over seconds earlier to block his path.

He cursed as he hit a crowd, and spotted the Delanceys heads making their way through, shoving people aside. Sean’s height was good for something, he ducked and weaved through the crowd. He could see them, only just, but he tripped over a person that had been shoved to the ground and looked up again.

No, no, no, _no_ , he couldn’t lose them. He couldn’t lose Racetrack.

He followed the vague sound of shouts and annoyance. When he finally emerged, he looked left, right. Nothing. He kicked the curb and winced as his foot protested.

It was getting dark now.

_Fuck._

Sean paced the sidewalk. The dots connected. This ‘trouble’ Racetrack was in must have been the Delancey’s doing. He cursed himself for not asking more about it. Maybe he could have saved him, prevented any of this from happening.

He pulled out his phone. He had to warn Racetrack. If he couldn’t stop the Delanceys he had to warn him at _least._

God knows what they would do to him. Sean knew them too well. He knew what they were capable of - they were part of the gang who taught him how to fight, after all.

He didn’t want to remember that. Those days when all he knew were his fists. He remembered every single thing they had done. _Done together._ The flashbacks he had only in his nightmares came back to him all at once.

First it was his mother, who had come at him with a beer bottle. She ended up with a broken nose. That was self defence.

Then his mother’s dealer, he left with a broken arm. Sean had never felt so in control of his life.

The day that kid had challenged his place within the small gang he joined. He ended up scared out of his wits. The celebratory cheers made him feel like he belonged.

When he rose in the ranks and beat up the previous leader. The fear that she wouldn’t recover. The feeling of power.

Challenging inexperienced gangs for turf, half of them running away crying. Defending his fellow members. His strength like a drug itself, blinding him to the damage it caused.

Then Albert. When the Delanceys had beaten him up for getting in their way and Sean had finished the job.

That image haunted him for the rest of his life.

He remembers his gut sinking as he walked away. He remembers turning around minutes later. He remembers fighting the Delanceys off when they came looking for him.

He remembers regretting what he had become.

He spent an entire two weeks looking after Albert, helping him recover. He had taken him to his makeshift apartment, an old place where the taps spurt muddy water and the lights flickered. They talked, and wrote, and talked and wrote about everything and anything. They learned to trust one another. Sean learned he could be better.

Albert had helped him get an apprenticeship with Smalls and Sean moved back in with his parents.

Albert forgave him. They became best friends.

And when things fell apart again, Albert was there for him.

No, the Delanceys weren’t just stupid. They were vengeful, and vengeance made people stupid. What for? Leaving the gang without so much as a word. Betraying them by helping Albert. Getting in their way every time they tried something. You name it, Sean had done it.

They were using Racetrack to get back at him.

Sean didn’t know what they’d do. Beat him up, probably. Hospitalisation at least. He didn’t want to think beyond that. Then blackmailing him with the exposure of his identity until he coughed up what they wanted. But it wouldn’t stop there. They would always have something against Racetrack now.

The street lights flickered on beside him.

He sent his message with shaking hands. He didn’t bother hiding them to passers by.

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 17 at 8:15 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: please respond_ **

_Race,_

_I’m sorry, please tell me where you are, you’re in danger._

_Sean_

 

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 17 at 8:17 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: please, they know everything_ **

_Or just who you are._

_I’m sorry._

_The Delanceys saw our emails, they know everything._

 

He had to start looking for him. He didn’t have time to wait for a reply that might never come.

Who was Racetrack? Who should he look for?

He sorted through his memories of the emails endlessly. He had no clue. He had no fucking idea who Racetrack was. _Fuck._ He had to go with his gut. He had to find Elmer.

He sprinted.

If he remembered correctly, Elmer was working late at the ice cream shop. The ice cream shop in the very same direction the Delanceys were running.

His body slammed hard up against another. He cursed bloody murder and tried to continue forwards before recognising the body he had knocked over.

Antonio groaned as he stood up from where he had fallen on the pavement in front of Sean. He held his phone in his fist, his eyes red and puffy. He opened his mouth as if he wanted to tell Sean something.

Sean didn’t have time. “Where’s Elmer? Is he still at the shop?” He asked frantically.

Antonio’s face fell.

“I- I’m-.”

Sean took a step closer, urging him to continue. “Is he still at the shop?” He demanded.

Antonio looked to his feet. He held back tears that threatened to spill. His lip wavered. His throat closed up. It was a lot to know the person you’d fallen for had mistaken you for your best friend. Then again, so had he.

Sean tried again. “Tony, who is Racetrack?”

Antonio looked up to meet Sean’s eyes. He tried to find the words. Tell him, scream at him, anything. _I am Racetrack._ He opened his mouth.

“Elmer’s still packing up.”

_No, no, no, I’m Race, I’m Racetrack. I’m here._

Sean left.

It didn’t matter that the Delanceys were coming for him. It didn’t matter that Sean was running away from him, towards Elmer. He could see they way he looked at Elmer. He was happy for them. Besides, he was sick of people protecting him.

He could deal with his own god damn mess.

Or, he could try.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let me know what you thought!
> 
> Feel free to come scream at me on Tumblr @sarsroses, id appreciate the company!


	11. it's too late for you to be my knight in shining armor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which Elmer is the only responsible person in this entire fic

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it's two hours late, im currently at my beta's house working off an old draft on her laptop because im an idiot

Antonio stood standing where Sean had left him, his breath haggard.

He turned to his side, and tried to make his way back to his apartment. Maybe he could get there before the Delanceys found him.

As he turned a corner, getting closer to his university, he saw the consequences of his actions. It was too dark to clearly make out the poster stuck to the brick wall beside him. He moved closer and rubbed his teary eyes. His photograph, taken at that party the year before. He’d worn a Cinderella dress while Elmer stood beside him as Prince Charming.

It was a happy memory. He remembered the joy over how the dress, for once, didn’t make him want to throw up. His hormone therapy, taking testosterone, had helped. His acceptance of himself as male had helped more. He could wear whatever he wanted, it didn’t define him. And while dysphoria still kicked his ass in times like that, he wouldn’t let it. He was male, and he could wear a dress and joke with his friends if he so chose.

He’d posted it on Facebook. And now it was up in front of his apartment, rude comments and drawings scribbled in sharpie over the top.

Tears streamed down his face.

He wrapped his arms around himself as he shook violently with gasps of air. Chocking sounds caught in his throat as he let himself cry.

Well, at least Sean would figure out who he was sooner rather than later.

He opened his phone back to Sean’s email. He typed a message of his own. Maybe he could redeem himself somewhat before he saw the mess he had become. Before he figured out who he was in the most disgusting way possible.

 

**_FROM: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: April 17 at 8:34 pm_ **

_**SUBJECT: It’s too late for you to be my knight in shining armor** _

_Sean,_

_I don’t blame you, however they found out. It could have happened to either one of us._

_Whatever happens, please don’t beat yourself up about it._

_Love,_

_Racetrack_

 

As he hit send, Antonio saw two figures approach him. He put his phone in his pocket and stood ready.

He wasn’t going down without a fight. Not after what they’d done.

The notification made Sean’s phone buzz in his pocket. He fumbled with his passcode and slowed to a quick jog, just slow enough to read the message.

He cursed. Sean ran like his life depended on it. It took him fifteen minutes to get to the shop. He counted the address numbers of the places he passed. 228, 230, 232, 234, 236, 238.

240.

Antonio stood tall, facing the figures. He tried to calm his breathing and wiped his tears from his face quickly before meeting them.

“Heya fellas.” He tried, voice as characteristically cheerful as he could manage.

“So Higgins.” Oscar began. “Youse gonna pay up, or we gonna bust a bone and come back next week to bust another.”

Antonio gave a strained laugh, which turned into a cough thanks to his crying moments previous. He reached into his pocket and took out an envelope. Morris stepped forwards to grab it, but when he opened it to find a wad of monopoly money, Antonio was already sprinting down the street.

He cursed under his breath as he ran after the boy. Race was a good name for Antonio, he really was quick on his feet. But the Delanceys had stamina, and there was only one of him.

He was cornered.

He hadn’t noticed Morris turn the corner to cut him off at the other end.

Okay, _okay_. He wasn’t Albert. He couldn’t defend himself properly. Shit, he was screwed.

Oscar took a step forwards, and with everything Antonio had, he planted his fist to his jaw. He kicked Morris backwards as he came running for him but stumbled with the impact.

While Morris was on the ground, Oscar came up to Antonio from behind.

Antonio was ready, he tried to recall what Albert had done the last time they’d fought. With the little time he had while Morris got up, he pushed Oscar against the brick wall. He held his arms behind him and pressed his face up against the wall hard.

Morris stood and waited for Antonio to make a move.

“You fuckers think that poster was funny?” Antonio was seething. The high of his anger and frustration fuelling his attack. He wasn’t a weak kid to be picked on, for Sean to come protect.

“Back down now.” He demanded.

Morris raised his fist.

He blacked out.

Sean came to a staggering halt just as Elmer came outside to stack the outdoor chairs. Elmer spotted him first, and ran up to him upon seeing the frantic expression on his face.

“Sean, is everything okay?”

Sean caught his breath. Something was wrong, the Delanceys would have attacked by now. Where were they?

“Are you Race?”

Elmer stood, stunned. He shook his head, no. Dread welled up in Sean’s gut.

“Who is he?” Sean asked, he grabbed Elmer’s arm in his desperation.

Elmer stuttered, unsure.

“Please, this isn’t a joke anymore. He might be in danger.”

His friend took a second to process this, his eyes wide.

“Antonio. It’s Tony.”

_Shit._

He sprinted back without explanation, trying with everything he had to recall where he had bumped into Antonio. Where he had gone. Anything.

Antonio, Tony, _Racetrack Fucking Higgins._

Sean cursed his idiocy.

It made sense, god, it made so much sense.

The little things that made up Racetrack.

_I’m bubble gum ice cream_

The kid he had grown to enjoy having by his side.

_You’re talking to a guy who grew up with one. Whatever you do, you do not want to let them go._

The sarcastic, witty asshole who made him smile on the hardest days.

_Someones gone starry eyed for their hometown._

The idiot, who came up with the stupidest ideas but always had the best stories.

_Needless to say I now have food poisoning and a really sore finger._

The flirtatious energetic firecracker who didn’t know when to stop.

_feel free to let me know just what about me piques your curiosity ;)_

The boy he had grown so fond of.

_its weird how much I trust you, random stranger over the internet_

The boy he had fallen for.

_Sorry but, I really like you, Sean._

He was so _stupid._

He tried to control his weakening strength at the inevitable idea that he was too late. Instead, he fuelled them with anger over this whole ordeal.

Halting at the place he had knocked Antonio over, he paced the sidewalk. Right, he was close to Antonio's apartment. He had vague memory of it’s location after dropping Albert off once or twice. It was close.

He ran until he was wheezing, and had to take seconds to catch his breath before he could bare to continue. But as he did, he heard a groaning, and followed the noise frantically.

Down an alley, a tall boy lay, barely conscious. He had propped himself up against the wall, as a trail of blood spread from him down the centre of the alley. The boy coughed, and Sean leapt into action.

He knelt down to Antonio’s level and tried to get his attention as the boys eyes gazed off into the distance.

He looked like hell. Blood running down the side of his face, his arm mangled at his side and his eye swelling up with oncoming bruises. As he coughed, blood and mucous fell from his mouth

“Seanie.” He croaked. His face turned to see his friend.

Sean couldn’t stop himself holding the boys uninjured hand. “Race.”

Antonio gave a weak smile.

Sean remembered how Albert looked all those years ago, laid just like Antonio was. He’d let it happen again. He thought he’d gotten better but it happened _again_.

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” His voice cracked as he hid his face from view and withdrew his hand.

Antonio held his intact arm out, and took Sean’s hand back, giving it a squeeze. When Sean looked back he gave him a comforting smile.

Sean took a deep breath.

“Can you stand? What’s broken?”

Antonio shuffled a bit, and winced. “Just my arm I think, but my heads not doin’ so great either.”

Sean tried to support him in standing, slinging his arm over his shoulders. “We’ve gotta get youse to a hospital.” He tried to say.

Antonio shook his head in defiance, “No. No hospital.”

Sean was about to protest, but concentrated instead on Antonio as he stumbled and leant into Sean for support. Sean took him up to Antonio’s apartment, growling at the posters outside. He carried the injured boy up the stairs and into the bathroom to clean what wounds he could.

Antonio sat on the toilet seat and tried prodding his arm, immediately regretting it.

Sean came with the small first aid kit he’d found in an overhead cupboard, one Elmer had stashed there in case of emergencies.

He wet a cloth and carefully pressed it to Antonio’s head, inspecting the damage.

“Admittedly this isn’t how you were supposed to find out.” Antonio started. “Me being Racetrack.”

Sean rinsed out the cloth and continued his work. Antonio continued, “I was going to serenade you with an amusement park height attendant, capitalism and vanilla ice cream.”

Sean didn’t stop the small smile that spread across his lips. “I hate you.”

“You love me.” Antonio responded, smile just as wide. Eyes just as watery.

“Yeah.”

Dead silence.

Antonio looked up to meet Sean’s eyes.

“Do you mean that?” He choked.

Sean didn’t respond for a moment. Then he nodded. “Yeah. Yeah, I like you.”

With Sean so close, tending to a scratch on his cheek, Antonio didn’t have to lean far to press a kiss to Sean’s lips.

Sean responded, gentler than he would under normal circumstances.

When they pulled away, Sean stood and cleared his throat. “That arm’s broken. If you won’t let me take you to a hospital at least let me call Elmer around to look at it. Besides, I don’t know how to check for a concussion, things like that.”

Antonio considered for a second, and nodded. “He’ll probably take me in the morning anyway, but sure.”

Sean left to ring Elmer, and presumably text Albert, the four were a package deal these days, the boy had a right to know.

When Sean re-entered the room, Antonio was fidgeting with his shirt. Sean sat beside him having done all that he could.

“I’m poly. I think. I don’t know.”

Sean nodded slowly. “Okay.”

“But I won’t date anyone else if you’re uncomfortable with it. I don’t know, I just don’t want to have to pick-“

“Is this Albert?”

“He told you?”

“Of course he told me, ya fucking dipshit. I’m his best friend. He also told me you were figuring something out.” He paused. “Guess that was me.”

Antonio smiled.

“You can date Albert if I can too, and I’m adding Elmer.”

Antonio blushed a bright red. “You gotta ask them first, Spotty boy.”

Sean smirked.

“Was you going to the carnival?” Antonio asked, sly grin growing on his face.

“Sure.”

Antonio’s grin grew, the mischievous glint in his eyes bright as ever.

“Bring a date.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> let me know if you enjoyed the chapter!


	12. the doctor said i'm lacking vitamin u

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear god finally its here

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Do they? FINALLY? Get their shit together?

Elmer made Antonio a makeshift cast under the strict condition that he would come with him to the hospital the next morning. Antonio was too tired to protest, and obliged as Elmer insisted he stay awake for at least a few hours longer just incase he’d missed any damage to his friend’s head.

Albert and Sean scoured the surrounding areas for any signs of other posters. They had found five in all, leading to the university and after two hours of searching were certain they had retrieved them all.

The four of them made it worth staying up, they played card games, using the six giant Mario plushies as prizes as well as strange gambling chips.

Soon, they all fell asleep on the couch, snuggled up against one another; how the night ended like this, none of them cared to question. After Sean was forcibly tackled into a hug, the others joined and eventually got comfortable, it was amazing how relaxed the four of them were together.

The next morning, Antonio was dragged to the hospital. Once he was looked over properly and got himself a cast, the only responsible member of the group (Elmer) dragged the three of them to the police station. He ignored Sean’s complaints as he reported the incident and Antonio confirmed the details.

They sat in a park together and drew stupid designs on Antonio’s cast. They each stayed as long as they could after the scare of last night, but soon the group disbanded. Albert and Elmer went to work, Antonio and Sean walked together to the university campus.

They hadn’t spoken properly yet; the tense silence was heavy between them. Antonio didn’t understand the extent of Sean’s standoffish nature in regards to him and their emails, but believed that he’d be told in time. What he did understand was that a symptom of his healing lay in the closeness of his friendship with Elmer, Albert and himself.

Getting Sean to face up to his feelings for the others would be difficult, but he assumed it would be a benefit in the long run. Otherwise, Antonio would have asked them all out at once at the hospital- he had a brilliant pick up line just for that sort of situation.

“You ever asked out a boy before?” He asked Sean. Remembering the hesitation around his identity in the emails - this could be difficult.

Sean’s eyes narrowed, but he didn’t reply. That in itself was enough of an answer.

“You ain’t gotta be worried. We’re not like other guys, Jack and his friends too. We’re all that matters anyway. Plus, El likes you for sure.”

Sean ignored the feeling in his chest at the last comment. “I’m not worried, alright?” He snapped.

Antonio smirked and put his hands up in mock surrender. “Don’t believe that for a second.”

A pause. Antonio’s expression softened.

“So what happens if this all goes to shit?” Antonio asked, his voice quieter.

Sean snorted. “Which of us is worried?” Antonio punched him playfully on the shoulder with his unbroken hand.

He could see the concern in Antonio’s eyes now, and his own voice grew serious. “I guess you date Al, and I’ll date El, if what you said is right - and it better be.”

Antonio looked down as his feet. “Yeah.”

They stopped walking now, and Sean grabbed Antonio’s arm to make him look up.

“Things might go to shit. Actually, they probably will go to shit.” Sean paused. “I’m not helping.”

He tried again. “There’s this absolute dickhead I’ve been emailing for the past few months. Real asshole, you two would get along.” They smiled at one another. “If anything has come from it, he taught me its okay to trust in things, even if they do go to shit.”

Antonio sniffled, and pulled Sean into a hug which almost toppled them both over. When he let go, he was smiling again.

“So what’s ‘boyfriend’ in ASL?”

On the 19th, the next day, Antonio turned up at Albert’s workplace with a flowering weed he probably picked from the sidewalk and a shit-eating grin. He gave Sean a wink before his eyes found Albert and he skipped up to the boy.

He threaded the flower in Albert’s hair and signed, as he had prepared (with the begrudging help of Sean), _“The doctor said I’m lacking vitamin U.”_

Albert turned bright red as Antonio continued. He put the spanner he was using down in an attempt to stop his friend.

Instead Antonio picked at the sleeve of Albert’s shirt, practically dancing around him as Albert tried to watch his lips and grab at his hands so he could pause and breath properly.

_“What material is this?”_ Antonio feigned confusion. _“Looks like boyfriend material to me.”_

Albert rolled his eyes. _“At least pick something original.”_

_“Did it hurt when you fell from heaven?”_

Albert raised an eyebrow. _“Yeah, I broke my collarbone and both my legs.”_

Antonio shoved Albert’s side at his laughter. _“Do you have a map because I got lost in your eyes.”_

_“Okay, okay, stop.”_ Albert insisted. _“What do you want?”_

Antonio grinned. _“Come to the carnival with me tomorrow, six o’clock.”_

_“A date?”_

Antonio nodded.

_“You’re driving though, I don’t have a car.”_

They smiled in agreement, Albert nodding. After a silence, Antonio started up again, _“Do you have a Band-Aid? Because I just scraped my knee falling for you.”_

Albert practically escorted him out of the workshop so he could get back to work. The smile never left his face.

Antonio worked and studied for the rest of the day. Or, tried to. He texted Sean later that afternoon.

 

**_Asshole Higgins at 4:06 pm_ **

_At least give the guy 24 hours notice Spotty boy_

 

**_Asshole Higgins at 6:08 pm_ **

_You don’t actually have to do this if you don’t want to,_

 

**_Spotty Boy at 6:15 pm_ **

_Fuck off im doing it_

 

Sean shoved his phone into his pocket.

No, he wasn’t nervous. Not at all.

He let out a shaky breath. Okay, maybe he was a little nervous. He held two warm take away coffee cups as he stood outside the hospital Elmer was working at. His shift was to end at six as far as he could remember, he just hoped the coffee wasn’t too cold now.

As if on cue, Elmer almost fell over him on his way home. He stumbled back with apologies before recognising the boy in front of him.

“Sean, what’re you doing here?”

Sean handed him the drink and took a sip of his own. He started walking in the opposite direction to Elmer. “Come on, I’ll give you a ride.” At the serious tone in Sean’s voice, Elmer followed.

Once they were settled, Sean turned the radio on a notably low volume and set off. He’d been thinking about this moment all day. After he watched Antonio do a purposefully terrible job asking Albert out, he’d been determined. Then, as the day progressed he grew uncertain.

When one grows up around homophobic people who could smash your head in at any time, asking a guy out was difficult to say the least. But, he had changed. Since meeting Racetrack, Elmer and Albert he had changed so much he almost didn’t recognise himself.

They calmed his fear and anger. So much so that now, as he sat with Elmer in a comfortable silence, he was okay.

He sighed. Now was the time, out with it.

“I’m being dragged into a double date.”

Elmer looked up at Sean.

“It’s at six tomorrow night, if you want to go.”

Elmer smiled the brightest Sean had ever seen it.

“Yeah. Yeah okay.”

Sean let out a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding.

For the rest of the drive, they talked about Elmer’s shift, who was there, who he helped, who he saved. Sean was happy just listening to Elmer ramble, he could listen to him forever, and when he pulled up beside Elmer’s apartment complex and said goodbye, he knew that he could.

The four boys spent the 20th freaking out, and when the time came, Sean and Albert pulled into the festival car park with their respective dates. Sean and Antonio dragged their counterparts the archway of the carnival entrance.

Antonio and Albert arrived first, Sean and Elmer met them five minutes later. Elmer and Albert were were delighted, if a little conflicted over the situation. Though they stood confused as their dates stared at one another as if they were having a telepathic conversation.

Antonio stood before the three, and if they were paying close attention they could see him visibly force his hands from fidgeting and his teeth worrying at his lip.

He really wanted to be serious, to make this proper and clear. But, he hadn’t thought about how he was going to approach the topic, deciding to wing it last minute. He was now regretting that decision.

“This needs food, I need sugar.” He spouted in his nervousness. He opened the messenger bag that was slung over his shoulder and took out a small white box.

_“If this goes to shit, I’m not sharing.”_ He said, practically glaring at the boys around him. He took out a doughnut and ate it before placing the box back and continuing. “There goes my backup plan.” He muttered, glaring at the box.

He addressed Albert; if things went wrong, he didn’t want to lose him. It dawned on him again that he could destroy everything he had with Albert, but shoved that thought deep down.

He tried to sign as he went, but Albert followed his lips anyway, considering his signs weren’t specific or fast enough to understand at this point. Especially since he hadn’t planned his words and was delving into topics he hadn’t learnt signs for yet. Sean helped translate little things Antonio rambled, or when he looked away in his anxiety.

_“I really like you, Albert. Whatever happens, I want to go out with you, and I’ll do whatever makes you comfortable in regards to this but -“_

He took a deep breath. _“I just wanted to be honest, and this short angry asshole I bumped into the other day told me I should take a blind stab in the dark, see what happens.”_

Antonio dropped his hands and rolled his eyes all of a sudden. “Fuck it.” He said, and took out the white box he’d eaten from previously. He was never very good at the whole serious heart-to-heart talk thing anyway.

He handed Elmer chocolate iced doughnut with ‘will’ written in pink icing. He read it aloud and looked up at Antonio with confusion. Antonio saw Sean roll his eyes as he took out the second doughnut for Albert.

‘you be’ was written on this one. Sean took the last and held it up ‘my’.

Antonio grinned and scratched the back of his head. “I ate the one that had ‘boyfriends’ on it but you get the idea.”

He waited, and at the silence (he hoped was from shock) he quickly tried to redeem himself. “I mean, if Albert’s okay with me dating other people - shit I fucked that up. Fuck, Al, I mean -“

Albert took Antonio’s hand in his, looked straight into his eyes and smiled. He then signed quickly and Sean translated. _“Elmer and I were discussing something similar the other night.”_

Elmer took Sean’s hand in his, tears in his eyes. Albert slung an arm around Antonio before kissing his cheek and ruffling Sean’s hair much to his annoyance.

“This is the most complex love square ever, we can’t just _choose_.” Elmer continued, laughing.

Antonio couldn’t believe what he was hearing. A dream? It had to be a dream. They couldn’t all like him? But when Elmer took his hand to lead him into the carnival and to the drop tower, he let himself enjoy the moment.

“Spotty boy, go on the carousel with us.” Antonio called, proceeding to point out the white stallion he intended to ride.

Elmer looked to Sean. “Spotty?” Albert laughed beside them, recognising the name from years ago. Sean flushed, trying to get angry at Antonio, but sighed instead.

“Nickname.” He explained, before shouting back. “Not in a million years, Race.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, yes they do. And you can bet your ass they watched the Delancey's get arrested over ice cream and cotton candy.
> 
> Last chapter is a short epilogue and will be coming out tomorrow. 
> 
> Thank you so much everyone for reading and commenting and everything it means the absolute world.


	13. I still have that stuffed goomba somewhere

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The last email.

**_FROM: kingofbrooklyn@gmail.com_ **

**_TO: theywascoronas@gmail.com_ **

**_DATE: July 30 at 2:43 pm_ **

**_SUBJECT: I still have that stuffed goomba somewhere_ **

_Race,_

_Italy is amazing. Your family is wonderful, if a bit full on for someone like me. Your father’s law firm is strict, and loud, but nothing worse than I expected. Soon I’ll be right back with you, El and Al, working in New York._

_My phone is on 2%, and my laptop is getting repairs (again) so I found myself at a library computer - which meant that email was the best mode of communication. I just spent 20 minutes reading over all our old emails. Can you believe it’s been 5 years since then?_

_I’m so glad everything worked out the way it did. I don’t know what I would have done or who I would be if I hadn’t met the three of you. Also I still can’t believe you thought Manhattan was better than Brooklyn, your opinion had better have changed. But I meant to ask, have we shown the boys these emails before? They use our nicknames but I don’t think they ever understood why they came up._

_So tell me, how is everyone? Albert finished putting together his new motorbike yet? How’s that kid Elmer’s been worried about? How’s work? Wish I could've been there for your first few days at your new job, I know it was really important to you. You’ve talked about the Academy for Sciences non stop since finishing your degree, I’m pretty sure Albert closed his eyes when you told him for the sixth time about that article on String Theory. In his defence, he’d had a long day._

_Anyway, I hope you’re all doing well._

_Love,_

_Spot_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every single person who has read this story, commented or given it kudos, I appreciate it so much you have no idea. Thank you guys for supporting this story and my writing it.


End file.
